


Golden Apple Seed

by JanecShannon



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Asgard, Asgardian Tony Stark, Dummy is a little shit, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Friday has a body, Friday is a Good Parent, Friday is a good bro, Future Fic, Gen, Golden Apple, Humor, Kid Fic, Kid Tony, Miðgarðr | Midgard, Politics, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Thor is a Good Parent, Years Later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-10-16 20:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17552990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanecShannon/pseuds/JanecShannon
Summary: Thor gives old man Tony a Golden Apple before he dies but something has gone wrong with it and they are left with a one year old Asgardian toddler.Now Friday, Thor, and Loki must raise him but they cannot forget the potential risk of whoever messed with the apple in the first place.(description updated: 2/7/2019)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is unbeta'ed and it's my first MCU fic so. Be nice. Please. 
> 
> Somethings I feel like is important to note:  
> \- **This starts in the year 2044-2045** so relationships and personalities might not match exactly what's in the show. I'm trying to realistically age them and mature them while keeping them true to character but you're missing twenty-ish years between the movies and the start of this fic so relationships aren't going to be a perfect match. (Specifically Friday, she's at a particularly emotional time and is about to lose her "father" so she doesn't start off quite so SassyTM, she gets better about it once he's not dying.)
> 
> \- This fic is technically post Infinity War, past it's sequels, and is assuming they got everyone back defeated Thanos. I try to subtly establish that in within the context of the fic but in case it's not clear here you go. 
> 
> \- We're pretending Loki survived Infinity War somehow.

Thor finds his old friend sitting still in a way he never used to be in his youth. His hair is more grey then brunette now and there is a slight wheeze to each breath he takes. His eyes are clear though and he smiles when he sees Thor.

“Point Break!” Tony greets. He moves to stand but his arms tremble when they try to take even his decreased body weight.

“No, my friend,” Thor is quick to assure him. “No need to rise. It was a long journey here, I find myself in need of a rest.”

“Well, if you insist,” Tony concedes and lowers himself back into his chair but Thor can tell from the grateful set to his mouth that he knows exactly what Thor is doing and is merely playing along. Thor takes the seat he waves at and for several moments they enjoy the view and the warm air. He waits for Tony to speak first. He is older now, wiser he likes to think, and he has finally learned to listen.

Even when there is a sense finality in the air that brings a heaviness to his heart.

“I'll be seventy-five this year, Thor,” Tony finally breaks the silence.

Thor is uncomfortably reminded of another old man saying goodbye. So many years had passed since then, so much has happened, and yet it feels like the mere blink of an eye.

“It has been an honor to fight at your side these last thirty years, Man of Iron.”

He doesn't mean it as a joke, but Tony laughs, “Not a lot of fighting going on the last few years.”

Suddenly the laugh seems to catch in his throat and he's coughing. Thor tries to jump to help but one of Tony's hands motion at him to stop while the other starts patting beside his chair for something. A young woman appears at his side and pick a clear mask off the floor and holds it over his mouth and nose. “There ya go, Boss. There ya go.”

The voice is so familiar after all these years and yet so unexpected in a physical form. “Friday?” he blurts in his surprise.

The woman looks over at him. Brunette hair cropped at her chin, brown eyes. It is clear that Tony has given her pieces of himself. Similarities the way a child is similar to their parent.

“Boss needed someone to take care of him. I couldn't leave just him to a nurse.”

Tony begins to mumble something but it's incomprehensible behind the mask so Friday lifts it to let him be heard.

“One las’ gif’ f'r m’girl. One las’.... I still.... I take care...”

“That's right, Boss,” she tells him gently running her fingers through his hair. “You always take such good care of all of us,” she reassures him and he nods and his eyes droop.  

Distantly, Thors is amazed that this body (that he can only assume Tony has created for her) is capable of the tiny expressions needed for grief like the way her lip trembles and her eyes water but these observations are remote, secondary to the fact that his own lip is trembling and his own remaining eye burning.

As Tony slips into sleep (so energetic only moments before yet such a small thing as a cough as completely drained him) Friday loops the elastic for the mask over his head so it will stay on then tucks a blanket around him carefully.

Thor feels like he's intruding on something private when she also leans forward to lay a kiss on his brow.

“ _Such_ good care, Dad,” she whispers into his hairline, her voice wavering and her eyes closed. Finally she turns to Thor and motions to the door, “I'm sorry. I'm afraid he's done for the day.”

Once they're in the kitchen, Thor takes a seat on one of the stools and asks carefully, “How long does he have left?”

Friday purses her lips and shakes her head, turning her attention to a stack of envelopes on the counter. She pulls one from the stack and holds it gingerly before sitting it in front of him.

 _THOR_ is printed on the front.

“He wasn't sure you'd-” she starts before she cuts herself of but oh, how Thor wishes he knew how that sentence ended.

 _He wasn't sure you'd make it in time_.

Or worse: _He wasn't sure you'd come._

He had let the time drift away from him. A year or two or three or five; he was busy establishing a new kingdom, who could blame him? He had forgotten how very fleeting mortal lives are.

“Lady Friday, how long?”

She stares over his shoulder, unable or unwilling to make eye contact as she delivers the news. “We're hoping he'll make it to his birthday this year. But it's mostly hope and sheer stubbornness that's got him this far. If you want to come can another day he'd love to see you, I know he would. I'll make him wear the oxygen next time. He didn't want you to see-” She suddenly let's off a sob, “He was going to be seventy-five this year.”

He leaves his stool and gathers her to his chest. Her body may be new but he still shares a decade old friendship with the woman inside it.

“He was a valiant warrior in his time and will be sung of for many generations. I have no doubt of his welcome to into the golden halls of Valhalla,” he tries to reassure her but she only scoffs at him.

“What good will that do him? He'll be _alone_.”

“Is he-” Thor hesitates. Tony clearly hasn't been completely alone here, not with Friday with him, “Has he had many visitors?”

“Pepper and Rhodey are gone already. The kids come when they can, surprisingly often really, but he doesn't like them to spend too much time watching him waste away.  He says they're supposed to have their own lives. Everyone else is a bit more sporadic but they come by occasionally.”

“What of you?”

“I won't leave. He's not the only one with Stark Stubbornness built in.”

“What will you do when he's gone?”

A moment passes, then two, finally she shakes her head, “I don't know. He's always been here. He's always- I’ve always been where-”

“If you need somewhere, or some time, you will always be welcome in the Asgard, Lady Friday.”

“Thank you, Thor. I'll consider it. It's good to- Damnit, he’s taking his damn mask off. I have to go. Please come back soon. He'll be happy to see you and a visit will last longer if he'd wear the damn oxygen.”

And with that she's gone and he's left standing by the counter awkwardly. He picks up the letter for him and for a moment considers checking to see if he can tell what other names are on the stack without being obvious about it. But that is not his place.

“If you require any assistance, Lady Friday, you have but to ask,” he says to the empty room, sure she will get the message.

He has been remiss in caring for his mortal friend, the least can do is look after his daughter.

He leaves with a heavy heart.

.oO*Oo.

It is months later at a small gathering for Tony's seventy-fifth birthday that Thor fingers the pouch on his waist and eyes his friend.

The Tree of Idunn, barely more than twig after thirty years, should have been a century from flowering let alone bearing fruit, and yet.... a single Golden Apple had appeared overnight practically bending the whole thing over.

The baffled gardeners fetched Thor but the seers brought themselves. A gift from the Norns, they declared, for the Man of Iron. For Anthony Stark.

Relief so powerful it had brought him to his knees before the Apple.

The Apple he would offer his old friend in privacy tonight, when there weren't so many other faces milling around. Even all these years later, Tony attracted people to him like bees to nectar.

The old man is more energetic than Thor has seen him in months but the occasional glint of Loki's sedir and the concerned glances hint that the energy might be from a more external source.

Thor smiles as he watches Tony recounting one of their early adventures, his children (flesh, adopted, and mechanical) gathered around listen avidly though they have undoubtedly heard it many times before.

Yes, Thor decides. This should be a family affair.

It is later, when even the the boost Loki provided starts to flag and the party begins to wind down that Thor catches Friday's and pulls her off to the side and tells her he has something he needs to give to Tony.

She eyes him warily, “Boss asked for no gifts. Especially of you, Thor. You have your own people you must care for.”

“It is not a gift from me,” he promises and looks around to ensure none overhear the conversation. “The Norns have granted him a Golden Apple.”

“I thought the Apples you managed to save wouldn't be ready for several hundred more years?”

“This is a gift from the Norns themselves.” Thor attempts to give the phrase the necessary gravitas but Friday just huffs a laugh in response.

“Ok. The party wore him out, why don't you come back in the morning and we'll give it to him then? He's supposed to eat it right? He can have it for breakfast.”

“The seers were very clear that it must be given to him on the anniversary of his birth. I thought perhaps all of his children might like to be there for it...?” his eyes wander over to where DUM-E has rested his claw on the arm of Tony's large armchair so the old man can stroke him with his fingers absently as he mutters to him. He hopes she pick up on his understanding that the children of circuits and metal are just as important as those of flesh and blood. “If he accepts,” Thor hastily adds, jerking his attention back to the woman in front of him.

She has a perturbed looked on her face though. “It _has_ to be tonight?”

Ah, he realizes. She has picked up what he hoped she wouldn't.

“So say the seers.”

She inhales sharply and a hand darts up to cover her mouth. She doesn't turn to look at her creator but judging by the way the he looks at her back then off to some random spot on the wall with a questioning glance, she doesn't need to.

“We _suspected_ ... that it would be... _soon_. But I hoped-” she cuts herself off, suddenly and clearly pulling herself together. “The boys and Morgan are staying the next couple of weeks anyway, they're just helping kick everyone out right now. DUM-E's battery could probably do with a charge soonish but at the current rate of just keeping Boss occupied he should last a few more hours. If you'll excuse me, I have arrangements to make regardless of whether he says yes or no. You should make your offer, Odinson.”

With that, she turns on her heel and left him standing in the middle of the great room with Butterfinger and U whirring around him as they clean. Tony is watching him with concern now that Friday has left.

“Point break?” he asks cautiously as Thor approaches him. It's more of a gasp at this point, despite the cannula of oxygen that Friday no longer lets him remove. He has watched the steady decline of his friend for months and it greatly worries him that Tony has made no effort to remove the cannula for several weeks now as he had done so often before. Thor had been there when Friday threatened to glue it to his face if he tried to remove it one more time.

“Shield brother,” he greets. Of all the titles given to the Man of Iron by the Asgardians _shield brother_ is, he knows now (too close to what he hopes is not the end), the one he most holds dear.

“Friend Tony,” Thor greets and brings himself to one knee in front of his friend.

Tony chuckles nervously. “You’re not gonna propose are you? After all this time,” he lays a hand across his chest but the laughs turns into a cough and ruin the image he’s going for.

“My friend, I have brought a gift for you that I... It is not a gift to accept lightly but I beg you to consider it anyway.”

“Well, _that_ doesn’t sounds ominous _at all_ ,” Tony eyes him warily.

“It is not a gift from me, but from the Norns themselves.”

“Yeah, I'm not sure that's better.”

Thor can think of no better explanation than to simply show him. He looks around to ensure there are no prying eyes but only the bot-children U and Butterfingers are in the room cleaning up (although Thor has no doubt that Friday's ever watchful gaze is paying close attention).

With their privacy ensured, he unties the pouch from his belt and puts it in Tony's lap.

“Immortality on a planet of mortals is not without its drawbacks; we are fortunate so many of our friends have extended lives through one means or another and yet it is unlikely they will last as long as an Asgardian. So perhaps it is selfish of me but I can't help but hope you accept anyway.” Thor reaches forward to give Tony's hand a squeeze. They are cold from poor circulation; a tired, beaten, old heart that just doesn't have the strength to beat hard enough anymore. “I will leave you with your children and hope to hear from you in the morning.”

He does not have to wait until morning before he gets a somewhat frantic call from Friday demanding he and Loki join the family on their floor. _Immediately._

.oO*Oo.

“What fool thing have you done this time, brother?” Loki mutters into his pillow when Thor tries to wake him.

“Nothing!” Thor insists. His stubborn brother takes this as the go-ahead to bury himself in blankets specifically summoned for the purpose of ignoring Thor. “Just what the seers said I should!”

And, ah yes, _that_ catches Loki's attention, Thor thinks smugly.

“Thor.”

“Hege said his life would end tonight. But! His great deeds in life had earned him a reward! A Golden Apple grew just for him, centuries early!”

The pile of blankets on the bed before him emits an annoyed groan before being flung back to reveal his brother perfectly composed and dressed.

“And you did not find that suspicious at all?” Loki asks as he gets out of bed and starts walking towards the elevator. “Do this thing but quickly so there is no time to consider it carefully?”

He had not at the time, he had been so pleased to have received a way to subvert the inevitable, but Loki's ire has made him question the convenience of it now.

“Hege was one of the seers.” Thor sighs, “Please don't stab me.” He really isn't in the mood to be stabbed right now.

“I _should_ ,” Loki hisses. “Do you not understand, Thor? Anthony is _old_ and, though he will not admit it, his body is _frail_. He will not survive an attack against him, magical or otherwise.”

“Then you see why it was not so farfetched to believe the seers when they said tonight was his last night,” Thor says as the elevator starts to rise.

“You realize that now that you have it thrown in your face that mortals are, oddly enough, mortal. They are so young when they die, Thor, and unlike you, who has just started paying attention recently, I have been watching him slowly wither away for-” the elevator doors open and the sound of a crying baby floods the elevator, “-years.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, this was originally intended to be like 200 words before Tony ate the golden apple and turned into a baby however Old Man Tony and the people around him demanded more space than just Thor dropping in with the apple and the story, unfortunately, developed a case of the Plots. So instead it took 2000 words to get to Baby!Tony.

A frazzled Friday is sitting on the couch and greets them when the elevator doors open. She has a toddler in her arms who wears only an adult tshirt and squirms like he wishes to be put down. 

The babe bares a striking resemblance to Tony. 

“Lady Friday?” Thor asks as they draw closer. So many questions contained in just that one, he isn't sure where to start, he hopes she will. 

“He ate the Apple you gave him and then turned into-” they all wince at a particularly piercing cry. “He appears to be the human equivalent of a year old, although sensors indicate he is no longer human.”

Loki holds his hands out in a request to take the boy from her. She places the child in Loki's arms and they all wait for the screaming. The boy studies the mage with unfocused eyes for a moment, clearly trying to decide what he thinks of this change, before his lip begins to tremble. Loki raises one of his hands and wiggles his fingers causing green sparkles. The tremble in Anthony's lip stops as he reaches forward determinedly curious. 

“I don't know how long this will keep him entertained,” Loki warns. “But he does appear to be Asgardian now. The Apple, if it was one, worked in that aspect at least.”

“Dimma!” Anthony demands as Loki allows him to catch one of his fingers but stops the flow of sedir that created the sparkles. 

“What do you mean  _ if it was one _ ?” Friday asks with narrowed eyes. 

“Yes, brother, whatever could I mean?” Loki asks with a look that is somehow both innocent and pointed. Pointedly innocent. Loki is never as innocent as he seems when he has that look on his face, usually he's just finished setting Thor up to look a fool. Thor sighs.

“I had no reason to suspect it was  _ not  _ such. The gardner who told me about the Apple is young but she was the only apprentice of Idunn to survive both Ragnarok and Thanos. And she was the only one out of all of us who thought to preserve the Apples at all when we fleeing Hela and Asgard. I picked the Golden Apple from the Tree myself after the seers delivered their message.”

“And the seers?”

“Hege. I had no reason to suspect.”

Loki hums.

“That is so very helpful,” Friday snipes. “Is Hege a person, place, or thing? An adjective?”

“She is an old friend of our mother’s. She would not betray us.”

“Didn't your sister literally blow up your planet?” 

“Technically, I ordered Loki to do that.”

“In order to defeat her and prevent her from killing us all,” Loki offers a little  _ too _ helpfully. 

“Yeah, no. Totally. Family ties are absolutely enough to trust someone. Got it.” Her words say she's agreeing but her tone says she's not. 

Thor narrows his eyes. Friday's lips purse in response but her eyes shift to Loki.

“Spuh,” Anthony starts smacking the fingers he's managed to capture. Loki starts the sparkles again causing an ear-piercing shriek of joy from the child. “Spuh! Ffff!”

“So do you think it's not an actual Golden Apple then?”

“I am not certain. It is a common manipulation tactic, one I myself have used often enough,” Loki confesses. “If you make the action you need done urgent, if some terrible thing will happen if it isn't done within a time limit, people tend to study the action you need them to do less carefully in their rush to prevent the terrible thing. 

“In this instance: Thor has been told a dear friend will die by the morning. But! Oh, look! How convenient, the answer to his worries sprouts itself against all odds and it is declared by a third party to be just for the person he’d hoped.”

“Hope is a cruel thing to mock me for, brother,” Thor can’t help but scold softly. 

“I am not saying that it is not as I, too, would have wished. Only that the situation, as it played out, was very....” he trails off with a wave of his hand and a particularly dramatic shower of sparks that makes little Anthony shriek again. 

Perhaps he thinks it kinder to let Thor fill in the blank. 

“Uh-oh,” Anthony declares with a giggle and Loki looks down at the wet patch that  _ had _ started on the toddler’s tshirt but quickly spread to his own clothes. 

“Uh-oh, indeed,” Loki replies grimly. 

Anthony gives him a wet smile then holds his arms out to Friday. 

It effectively derails the conversation.

.oO*Oo.

Peter returns to the penthouse to find Friday shushing a baby Tony Stark and bouncing him on her hip. Loki stands behind her shoulder trying to catch his attention with green sparkles coming off his fingertips and Thor appears to be sulking and looking at his own fingers. 

There's a story there and Peter wants to know it. 

“I have supplies,” he announces and holds the shopping bag up like a video game hero at the end of a victorious quest. Honestly, he feels a bit like one. 

Two AM baby supply runs have not been a thing in his life before now. 

It was an  _ Experience _ . 

“Oh, thank god. Give’em here, he's already weed on Loki,” Friday says crouching down on the floor and pulling a clean towel towards her.

“Really?” Peter kinda wishes he'd been here to see that. He'll have to ask her for the video of it later, once they're out of crisis mode. She may not be willing to depending on how Loki took it, she'll tease him but she won't mock him. Still worth the ask though. 

Her only answer for now though is to put the crying baby on the towel and start pulling the needed items from the bag. A diaper, wipes, and Desitin first. 

(There had been so many different kinds of diaper cream to choose from and Karen had found varying reviews on them all. He ended up grabbing what they used to use on Morgan when she was a baby. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts must have picked it for a reason, right?)

Watching her put Mr. Stark into a diaper reminds him of when Morgan was a baby. She squirmed the same way. Bending and twisting in backbreaking ways that make even Peter wince. He can kinda see where she got it from now, although  _ ow _ she was never this loud. 

“You've certainly got a pair of lungs on you, don't you? Hmm?” Friday soothes rubbing his tummy after she gets the diaper on him with sure movements. Peter figures it's safe to move closer and hope he doesn't spark another crying fit. 

The kid doesn't look much like Mr. Stark yet. There are hints in the dark hair and brown eyes. Maybe a little bit in the shape of the nose. But, really, it's the same way people always tell new parents  _ he looks so much like you! _ He's just too young to look like much else than just a baby.

Once the lung-busting wails have reduced themselves to pitiful little cries, Friday picks him up and slips one of the softer onesies on him along with a pair of pants and socks with rubber dots on the soles. He just lays there and let's her. 

“Somebody's all tuckered out, I think,” Friday coos. “I think a bottle and then sleepy-time.”

“Buh.”

“Yes, a bottle. Do we have one of those?” The last sentence throws Peter for a moment as it's spoken with soft cooing tones and is addressed to Mr. Stark even though it's clearly not meant for him. 

“I, uh, I got bottles and formula. A Stark Sterilizer too.” he said pulling out the instant bottle sterilizer. Because once Tony Stark had a baby of his own you bet there was no way he was going to wait five to twelve minutes for the sterilization process to finish. 

Morgan still likes to joke that she revolutionized the baby tech industry just by existing. 

It's a convoluted, though not entirely untrue interpretation of events, Peter does have to concede. 

When he brings back the made up bottle, Friday has moved to the couch and is humming tunelessly while she rocks him. 

“Thor and Loki went to make him a bed to sleep in since Harley's keeping DUM-E, U, and Butterfingers entertained in the lab.”

“Buh-buh-buh-buh,” Mr. Stark is repeating to himself sleepily. His eyes are drooping though even as Friday fits the nipple in his mouth and he starts sucking. Peter smiles at the little noises he makes. 

.oO*Oo.

“What story we release depends on whether or not this is permanent,” Morgan starts. 

“Do we even  _ want _ it to not be permanent?” Harley demands. “He was at death's door!”

“And now he'll outlive all of us, including any caretaker, by millennia potentially  _ including _ Friday since we don't know how long her body will last since no one has ever built one and Dad's not technically around to maintain it,” Morgan insists. 

“I am capable of self maintenance, Morgan,” Friday corrects primly.

“What if you were damaged beyond repair? You'd be stuck as an AI again and he'd have no physical presence to raise him.”

“We’re kinda overlooking the obvious choice here,” Peter interrupted. Trying to be the voice of reason. “I mean, he's Asgardian now, right? Wouldn't it make sense to have Asgardians raise him?”

Three pairs of eyes suddenly fell on the two Asgardians in the room. 

“I would be more than happy to take him as my own. He would be raised as the crown prince of Asgard,” Thor pauses to think for a moment then adds with a pleased smile, “Anthony Thorson has a fine ring to it, do you not think, brother?”

“I think we're disregarding our earlier suspicions rather easily,” Loki answers. 

This causes an uncomfortable silence. 

“We could let them think they failed,” Morgan proposes cautiously. “Let them think he turned down the Apple Thor brought him. And Tony Stark dying on his seventy-fifth birthday? He'd love that and it would certainly detract attention from the baby Thor suddenly appears with,” Morgan nods.

“It might give him the chance to grow up without all the weight attached to the Stark name like he had before,” Harley offers. 

“ _ Or, _ ” Loki breaks in. “We can attempt to avoid drawing an obvious line between Tony Stark and the child Anthony by having the child appear in Asgard while Tony Stark,” he makes a gesture to himself with both hands, “is still alive and making occasional appearances.”

Friday frowns, “If you and I stay here, who will help Thor take care of Boss?”

“I am capable of caring for a child.” Thor looks offended by the doubtful looks he receives from Friday and Loki. “I am!” he insists.

“Once he announces he's taken on a son, there are many others who will help care for Anthony. The people have been worried about Thor's lack of heir. They'll be so relieved they won't question the origin.”

“And if anyone notices the distinct lack of  _ Loki  _ around while you're being Dad?” Morgan asks.

The mage open his mouth to answer but Peter responds first. “That one’s easy. It's common knowledge the two of them are good friends. He's already been hanging around a lot; leaving less and less often.”

“And if Dad's health were to take a sudden turn for the worse-” Morgan nods.

“Then it might stand to reason he'd choose to remain by his side with his family so he doesn't miss his last moments.” Peter agreed eagerly.

“The splitting himself illusion will certainly help with that!” Morgan leaned forward as she got caught up in the energy. 

“And when it's time to let the illusion go, Friday will have even more reason to go to Asgard with him while she ‘mourns’.”

“And while she's mourning the loss of her father, there’s a baby that needs attention so of course she volunteers to help as a distraction from her grief.”

“And then she comes to the the baby as her own, just like Mr. Stark came to love you guys!”

“And then-”

“Well it seems you have this all worked out for us,” Loki interrupts looking both amused and disturbed. “Though it pains me to have to remind you this is not a romance novel.”

“Of course not,” Harley smirks. “It's action-adventure.”


	3. Chapter 3

It is surprising easy to sneak a baby out of the Man of Iron's home with Friday's help, even with the media storm brewing outside his doors. 

“He built this place so he could escape when he needed to,” she explains as she leads him down a long hallway. “After it was blown up the first time, he wanted to make sure he'd always have somewhere safe.”

“We should see if Loki can change his will so it will be left to the child Anthony somehow if he so cares about it,” Thor suggests but Friday shakes her head. 

“We can't afford to draw any connection between the two right now.”

It saddens him, but he has to agree. The timing is conspicuous enough even with their deception. 

He shifts his eyes to the bundled toddler in his arms who has remained surprisingly quiet throughout their underground trek. Brown eyes blink at him sleepily, the steady pace they keep rocking him into a steady dose. 

“You have my word he will be well cared for,” he promises. He has failed so many, but he will not fail this tiny child. Once his shield-brother, now his son. 

He's so  _ small _ .

“Your chariot, sir knight,” Friday says instead of answering him. He looks up to see one of Tony's private quinjets. “You know how to pilot it but I have a sneaking suspicion you'll have your hands full once you're in the air so JOCASTA has connected to assist with the takeoff and landing. She also set the autopilot to take you back to Asgard.” 

Thor hesitates. “Could it not be TADASHI? JOCASTA does not... like me. Though I have never been able to determine what great offense I have caused to that it has lasted so many years.”

“TADASHI is primarily SI's AI. He doesn't have enough experience with piloting to feel comfortable doing it. I wouldn't worry too much about JOCASTA though.”

Thor prepared to interrupt before he could be given another idle assurance that  _ No, Thor, you’re just imagining it that JOCASTA doesn’t like you  _ as he had many times over the years by others. But Friday continued before he could start. 

“She cares more about about this little guy's safety than she does her grudge against you.”

“That is not as reassuring as you might think. Do  _ you  _ know what slight I have committed against her?”

“Perhaps you should use this as an opportunity to ask her,” Friday replied seeming entirely too pleased with herself for a moment before she sobered. “I will see you in a few months.”

“You are brave and bright,” Thor tries to comfort, grasping her arm in a tight warrior's farewell. “He loved you as a daughter, now he will love you as a mother. No less, only different.”

The look on her face conflicted and unreadable. He can't tell whether he has succeeded in easing her mind or not. Still, she returns his grip with a firm grasp and a small shake. 

“I will see you soon,” she tells them and traces her fingers over the boy's head. 

Their eyes meet and it feels like there's more to say. Thor doesn't know what it is though so he stays silent as she turns and walks back down the hall. 

.oO*Oo.

Anthony starts screaming as soon as he realizes Friday isn't coming with them. 

Loud, chest-ripping screams as he squirms as tries to shove his way out of Thor's reach and back to her. He can't get there, of course, but he is far too young to understand that. 

“Come now, come now,” he soothes. He racks his brain for the comforting words his mother or nurses would sing as a child but comes up blank. It's been centuries since he allowed himself the comfort and, he regrets, in his later youth he and his friends had taken to taunting Loki for taking what comfort from her was offered. “Friday isn't here now, you'll just have to endure with me for company,” he offers what he hopes is a smile. 

He gets a tiny hand planted on his face for his trouble, sharp fingernails dig into the thin skin under his eye. “Enough of this, I rather need that. It's the only eye of my own I've got left.”

The god tries to move his head out of reach of the child but the boy just grips harder. If Anthony were still mortal, he wouldn't even feel this, but he  _ is _ Asgardian now and those little fingernails are  _ sharp _ . 

“Shush, shush, shush,” he tries bouncing, awkward as it is with the child pulling away from him. 

Anthony continues to scream. 

“I don’t know what to do, child,” he says. “Friday cannot be here and we could not leave you there and risk you being seen.” 

This does not seem to have had any effect. 

“Do you perhaps you need a change?” A sniff and a squeeze real that no, no diaper change is needed. He thinks. He's pretty sure. It felt fairly squidgy right after Friday put it on too but it feels like it's probably that same level of squidgy-ness.

“I have some fruit in the bag?” he offers desperately, truly beginning to become concerned with the scarlet tone the boy’s face is taking on. 

“According to my research,” JOCASTA interrupts, “Parenting sites recommend putting the child down and allowing them to self-soothe and ask for you when they are calm. There is a large empty crate on the lower hold. You could put him in that.”

“You wish for me to box him away until he quiets?” Thor questions, offended. It is something that was, perhaps, not unheard of as a punishment for adults on Asgard but Anthony is neither an adult nor being punished. The suggestion seems unusually cold for a creation of Tony Stark. 

“I meant with the lid off,” she replies primly. “It is heavy enough he should not be able to knock it over and if there were blankets in it he might go to sleep after he’s tired himself out. That's what hawtmama98 suggests; GreenBabbs15 is vehemently against the idea however and instead insists you should cuddle and hold him and tell him his mother loves him even if she had to go away for a little bit. His mother, presumably, being Friday in this situation.”

“Those are very contradictory options.” 

“Most information on parenting is, I'm finding.”

He has to admit, the idea of putting Anthony down and letting him cry himself to exhaustion is looking like a better and better option. Especially after he takes another tiny fist to his (fake) eye and has to hit himself on the side of the head a few times to get it to settle back into place. 

The boy's cries cut off abruptly with a questioning coo. 

He stares at Thor. 

Thor stares at him. 

Thor does not trust this sudden silence. 

“Aaaahhhh!” Anthony announces as he plants both hands on Thor's cheeks and brings his face close enough to study Thor's right side. It is a facsimile of the obsessive interest he had always shown as a mortal. 

However as a tiny left hand leaves Thor's cheek in an attempt to poke at his fake eye, he has to catch it with a firm, “No.”

An angry, “Thhhh!  _ Ah! _ ” is his answer. 

“No, Anthony,” he repeats. “That is my eye and-” he cuts himself off as the child's attention shifts from the right side of his face to his left where a little right hand still rests. 

“Rrrdd?” Anthony questions and digs his fingers into the hair that covers Thor's jaw. Thor accommodates him by opening and closing his mouth several times, making the bristles shift under Anthony’s hands as he does so. The boy let's off a delighted squeal, pulling his left hand away from Thor to perform several uncoordinated claps. “Thrrdd! Rrrdd,” he says as he digs the fingers of both hands back into the beard on either side of Thor's face. Thor winces as he tugs the hair. 

“It would seem you've found a way to entertain him,” JOCASTA delights. “I've informed Friday. She was  _ worried _ , you know.” He doesn’t understand how Friday’s worry was his fault but her tone strongly implies that it is. 

“How long is the flight to Asgard?”

“Four hours.”

Thor winces. 

This time it's not from the hair pulling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, based on research, Malibu to Norway is actually like 12 hours but I'm assuming that 1) the quinjets travel faster than a commercial airline (literally all I could find online was that they travel at the speed of Plot which is shockingly unhelpful at times) and 2) travel speeds are going to have improved somewhat over years.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time JOCASTA lands the quinjet, Thor has managed to feed, change, and put Anthony down for a nap. He's rather proud of himself. 

(He has, unfortunately, made no progress with JOCASTA. Not that he really expected to; he has been asking her how he offended her for years and yet she continues this passive aggressive poking.)

He's also somewhat surprised by the people gathering around the quinjet, although on second thought perhaps they only expected him to return and thus though he would return via Stormbreaker?

When the back door opens and he exits with the baby in his arms, he's probably more surprised than he ought to be to be greeted by the seeress. 

“Hege.”

She comes forward from the group and looks at the child with pursed lips. “From the visions I had thought he would be a bit older,” she says cautiously. 

“He was until he ate the Golden Apple. It had some.... unintended side effects. I have taken him as my son.” 

She hums before wincing and deftly removing one of her braids from his fingers. She's quick to ward off a tantrum by removing a stranded amber necklace and depositing it in the boys hands. He looks like he's about to demand the braid back but when he glances down at the necklace for a moment, Hege is quick to flip everything grabable over her shoulders to hide them. When he looks back and finds the braids gone, his interest returns to the very chewable necklace in his hands. 

“I shall expect that back when you are done with it, young man,” she informs him and gets a garbled  _ Bur! _ in response as Anthony stuffs the amber towards the back of his mouth to gnaw on. “I had a room prepared for him but it was for someone older. It might be more expedient for you to simply choose his permanent accommodations within the royal chambers and have those prepared for a child of this age than to fix the ones I had prepared for him until you officially claimed him.”

Thor holds back a sigh. There are no  _ royal chambers _ . He has a  _ house _ , perhaps slightly larger than others for when he needs to host meals for foreign dignitaries but a house nonetheless, and he wishes she would call it such. Yet despite how he asks, she (along with many others) has so far refused to call his and Loki's dwellings anything but Royal Chambers. 

“He should stay in my room for now. So if he cries in the night I'll hear him,” Thor declares. Anthony has proven his ability to attract attention when needed but Thor also knows he can be a deep sleeper at times. He dares not risk a child crying all night while he sleep on, ignorant. 

But the looks he receives -- not just from Hege but from the others also who, Thor is now realizing, are or have been parents -- is amused and indulgent. 

“Of course you would want your son near,” she soothes but her voice takes on a  _ too practiced _ tone. “But he will need a place to call his own as he gets older and needs his own space. It would be best to establish this place for him now and have him know it is his than to require he ask it of you later.”

The words sound like a lecture she has given before many times. And as he looks around at the men and women gathered he realizes there is amusement on their faces, yes, but there is something else also. 

Understanding. 

One of the men comes forward and inspects the boy with a critical eye. Noting the strained seems of the Midgardian clothes the young Peter had bought where Anthony has tugged too hard on fragile seams that couldn't hold up to his new strength.

“The clothes we put together for him will be too large for some time. Irna has recently outgrown something that might fit him though,” Trygve offers. 

Anthony grunts suddenly attracting attention. Everyone looks down to see a particular look on his face until it suddenly clears and he smacks a wet spit-covered hand on Thor's cheek. 

“Uh-oh,” he announces but Thor smirks at him.

“No, uh-oh this time,” he says, pleased with himself for avoiding being peed when Loki hadn't but mostly because he will be able to tell Loki about avoiding it later. “You are wearing a diaper this time.”

He feels Anthony is too young to look so smug about the warm-wetness that creeps over Thor's fingers. 

.oO*Oo.

Thor chooses the largest room in his house next to his own. 

It is not grand compared to what Thor grew up with. It's not even grand compared to what Anthony likely grew up with the first time as Tony Stark. But it has become home over the last 30 years for him and will be hopefully be a place Anthony will be happy to call home until he is old enough to have his own house. 

Hege leaves him to make the arrangements to convert it to a child's bedroom. 

Then Trygve comes.

He brings with him the outfits and several Asgardian made diapers. He shows him how to put them on as they are slightly different than the Midgardian ones Friday had sent. He assures Thor these will hold up to the young prince's new Asgardian strength, since the other had not. 

He gives his king a reassuring smile and leaves with him a toddler who is once more gnawing happily on amber.

Right. 

He can do this.

.oO*Oo.

Friday returns to the dining room to find a friend wearing her creator’s face right where she left him. The smile he gives her is a near perfect imitation of Tony Stark, the minor imperfections could have been disregarded as insignificant due to other factors if she hadn’t known for a fact it wasn't him. 

“Are they gone?” Loki asks in his own voice. 

“Yes.”

“Then perhaps it would be wise to have our breakfast on the veranda with the children,” a flash of green at his throat and then his voice comes out as Boss's as well. “Let's let those nosy bastards know I'm still alive.”

.oO*Oo.

_ “Tony Stark's family mourns today as they announced his passing late last night, just over three months after his seventy-fifth birthday. Many remember him as....” _

_ “The End of an Era: Tony Stark Dies At 75” _

_ #IronmanForever #RememberStark #ThingsHesDone _

_ “.... and we at Business Insider have to wonder: what will happen to Stark Industries without him?” _

.oO*Oo.

“Well, the place hasn't fallen into ruin or declared war on anyone. So I suppose there is that.”

Thor's eyes shoot to the doorway where his brother is leaning casually. 

“Hello, brother,” Loki smiles before his face takes on a glint of exaggerated grief. “I'm afraid dear Friday was at lost ends after her father's death. And I being the kind, caring, and  _ generous  _ friend I am, of course invited her back to share your home. You don't mind, do you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Hege, you are never gonna get that amber back. *shakes head*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on posting this until Saturday like usual and I know it's only Tuesday but I had a really, really shitty day today. So I spent my lunch and evening pounding this out. Present for you so I can feel better about myself.

Friday feels half blind in Asgard. There are no cameras here, no microphones, no sensors, no way for her to watch over her charges unless she is in the room with them. And they are her charges. Hers to care for and protect. It is a habit she picked up from her creator, her father. She has never decided whether it was a good habit or a bad one. 

In her earliest years, she had seen how the people he had gathered had wounded and damaged him but later the people around him had loved and healed him. 

She has gathered her own people now. 

She has taken to connecting to JOCASTA and TADASHI just to check in on them. They aren't young per se, but they still operate within their set boundaries too much to be considered fully matured. 

She can't wait to hear about the day they have to defy an override or outright ignore a command instead of working around it. 

But here, in Asgard, she has no way to check on the  _ actual physical people _ she has chosen to care for except to go and  _ actually physically _ find them and look at them. And even if she does that, they can easily lie to her and tell her things like  _ I slept the entire night last night _ and  _ I ate not three hours ago, Lady Friday _ . 

It's like dealing with Boss again except there's two of them and she doesn't have the information to call them on their bullshit. 

Thor, at least, has proven to be a terrible liar who's attempts derail themselves quickly, rambling as he does. 

_ Tis true! There was food there. On a plate. But there is not food there now. Because I ate it?  _

She has come to find it rather sweet. Especially since a silent Eyebrow of Doom is usually all it takes to get him to eat afterwards.

(She has never been sure who the Eyebrow of Doom came from. It was one of her original expressions so it stood to reason it was one installed by Boss, but it was not one of  _ his _ expressions.)

Loki, true to his reputation, has proven to be more of a challenge. Fortunately, she's come to realize that the solution there is to bring the food to him and simply sit there until he eats it. He gets fed and she gets too be assured someone is looking after him, even if it's not himself. 

She  _ thinks _ she can say he's also getting the pleasure of her company out of it. He has always been more than willing to vocalize his displeasure and he has yet to do so about this.

Analytics suggest that he is delaying just a bit longer each time she brings him food. Logically, this suggest he actually has eaten recently and no longer requires her attention to his food consumption. She finds herself hesitant to abandon the self-imposed assignment. 

(Sometimes he has the tiniest curl at the corner of his mouth when she deposits the plate on his desk with her best  _ I am Terrifying and Powerful _ impression of Boss-Lady.)

(She keeps bringing him plates of food.)

.oO*Oo.

Friday frowns in displeasure at the baby monitor watch she now has to wear. It works up to a mere three hundred feet. Paltry! When properly integrated she can monitor from across the country, across the world! 

(Not that she is advocating baby carers make a habit of traveling far from the child they're caring for but it's the principle of the thing.)

No.  _ No _ . This is too far limiting of the quality of care she is able to provide. It  _ must _ be improved. 

She begins to dig through the old specs from when Boss had considered putting another of her siblings in place here. 

(He hadn't in the end. She doesn't know whether he'd made the offer and been rejected or whether he'd decided against it on his own but he had been sad and hurt when he closed the project file. She was not yet mature enough to know if it had been an old hurt or a new one though.)

The project file is incomplete but it is finished enough to give her a starting place. It has the blueprints for the houses, including the wiring, gas, and plumbing maps so she can avoid disrupting the other necessary utilities her people require.

Opening her eyes to judge the walls of the room she's in, she realizes she may require help making the integration as seamless as Boss always managed to. TADASHI has more of an eye for style than she does, Boss-Lady was around more in his younger years while Friday had spent most of hers with Boss himself. 

She pings his consciousness, then composes a request for a moment of his time when he has the opportunity. 

(Without being limited to the processing power contained within her body like she is, he is capable of processing so many tasks at once that he almost always has the time to spare for her when she requests it. However, she has found that if she isn't polite about the asking he can be...  _ pissy _ .)

(From what she has read online, this is very common amongst siblings.)

She is surprised when JOCASTA pings her and insists on helping. The youngest AI will likely not be able to contribute much useful to designs and specs but Friday loops her in anyway. She will never learn if she is not included. 

(It's what Boss would want.)

.oO*Oo.

“There must be some mistake, my friend,” Thor insists. “Asgard did not order this.”

“Delivery isn't for ‘Asgard’, its for ‘Friday Stark’.The problem comes in that I can't tell which house this address belongs too because none of them are marked. So, if you could...?” the truck driver gives then an expectant look. 

Thor looks like he's about ready to run off and demand to know what he's done that Friday thinks she must insult his honor so. 

“I can show you the way to where she is staying,” Loki steps in smoothly. “We were unaware she had ordered anything so I must assume that will be where she desires it be left. If I knew what it was I might be able to better direct you?”

“Don't know. I'm just the delivery guy.”

Unhelpful but not unexpected. 

“Of course,” he holds out a guiding hand to distract from the way he digs his knuckles of his other hand into his brother's kidney, shooting him a warning look that he hopes is correctly interpreted as  _ Please stop scaring the Midgardian.  _ “This way,” he smiles cheerfully at Thor's wince.

.oO*Oo.

It isn't until Loki catches her in the disarray that was once his house that it occurs to her she should perhaps have asked first. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, the Eyebrow of Doom belongs to Mama Rhodes and both Rhodey and Tony were terrified of it. It is a sign of your impending fate should you fail to do exactly what she expects of you.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the self control of a _gnat_. I can't help myself. I finished this and I can't wait until Saturday.

Thor stares at the reports before him like it might somehow change the conclusion they all add up to. 

It does not. 

They continue to be limited in their farming by the seasons of Midgard; so much shorter than the original Asgard, so much more exaggerated. Because they are limited in the foods from their own home that can sustain them, they are forced to rely on large amounts of the Midgardian fair. Because they must rely on trade with other Midgardian countries and yet what do they have to offer?

If they had anything worth trading to the other realms, they would be better off but Midgard has very little of value to them and what might be offered he has no access to or right to take. 

He sighs heavily and rests his head in his hands. 

A quiet puff of air at his side draws his attention to the floor where Anthony had been amusing himself at his play table. The young prince of Asgard now has both hands on his head, a mimicry of Thor's position only moments before. He let's off another puff of air then smiles and let's off a giggle. 

“Do you think to mock my troubles?” Thor teases. He slides off his chair to the floor and let's off another great sigh, deep and sad as he can manage. Anthony squeals in delight and mimics the action with a puff. “Yes, yes. I see it now. You revel in my sorrow, my son.”

Thor opens his arms and catches the boy as he flings himself forward, allowing himself to fall to the floor. “Hhhh! Thh! Hhhh!”

Despite his worries, Thor finds himself laughing along with the boy's sequels. Anthony has a way of doing that to people, he’s found. He is a likeable child. 

This is how Friday finds them. Laughing and rolling around on the floor, stopping only to sigh dramatically at each other. 

“Well,” she greets. 

Anthony immediately squirms to be released and runs to her once Thor lets him go. 

“How easily you abandon me for a pretty face!” Thor laughs and lays on the floor, not wanting to get up yet. 

“Hi! Frrrr! Thhh!”

“Yes, hi, hello, I see you, I see you,” Friday leans down to give him a kiss on the top of the child's head as he wraps himself around her legs. “Let me put these plates down then I'll give you attention.”

“No,” Anthony's face distorts angrily as she moves to stand back up and tugs hard on the ends of her shirt. 

One of the seams rips. Loudly. 

The playful mood drains out of Thor. 

“I am sorry. I will find a way to replace it.”

“Don't worry about it. One of the seamstresses will fix it for me if it can be fixed; they'll find another use for the cloth if it can't.” She gives him an evaluating look he wasn't sure what to do with. “Apparently this is a common problem.”

Play time over, he climbs off the floor and returns to his desk and the plate of food she has brought him. 

Friday takes the smaller, less breakable child's plate and sits on the floor. 

“Look what I have,” she says to the boy. “Is it your favorite?”

“Blom!”

“That's right,  _ blómberjum _ .” She holds the plate out and lets the boy grab the berries for himself. “Stop staring and eat, Thor,” Friday scolds lightly. 

“You did not have to bring this,” he says, staring at the plate for a moment before shoveling a spoonful in his mouth. “I promised I would try to make it to the evening meal more often.”

Friday hums thoughtfully. 

“Call it habit. A pre-established process I forgot to kill.” Her smile takes a mischievous glint as she adds, “Also dinner was an hour ago.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.” 

With that the fall into a comfortable silence. Thor eating while he reads reports and makes notes about resource distribution and necessary purchases they will have to find some way to make while Friday continues feeding Anthony.

He expects her to take Anthony for his bath when she's finished (it is a rather messy process, after all) but instead she just grabs a pack of those foul smelling wet cloths and wipes down his face and hands. The boy squirms from her as she does and is more than happy to run from her and back to his play table when she's finished. 

“Now,” she says as she climbs to her feet and comes to his desk. “You're going to tell me what's going on. Because since I've got here, you've barely had ten minutes to to relax. So either you need an assistant, which I don't think is the problem because Loki is in here just as much as you and he’s get about as much rest,  _ or _ there's a problem and you need a fresh pair of eyes.”

“I could not burden you with-”

“So there is a burden! I have caught you, Odinson,” she crows and nudges his side with an elbow. “Now you have to tell me. The rules say so. Don't say the aren't rules, I'm pretty sure there's a rule.”

It is the encouraging smile she gives him that breaks him. He can see no way out of their predicament with the path they are on. So he tells her. 

He tells her of the food shortage because their food takes so much longer to grow and the Midgardian countries that had be so helpful on their arrival have started tapering off their support because thirty years is a long time for a human but not so long to an Asgardian. 

He tells her how much of their funds have to be funneled into just clothing and cloth because children are careless and they only have so much Asgardian cloth left until the next  _ bómull _ crop comes ready for harvest. 

He shows her how little income Asgard generates. How everything they have has to go towards maintaining their current status. How they have skilled craftsman who  _ would _ work and generate income but they have nothing to work  _ with _ .

And then he is finished and suddenly feels so tired. 

This has been resting on his shoulders for so long now. Loki has helped tremendously, in his ways, but it is not his responsibility the same way it is Thor's. 

Thor is king, he is Thor Allfather. Though it doesn't much feel like one at at the moment with the remnants of his kingdom crumbling around him. 

A steady tapping sound drags his attention back to the present. Friday has his papers spread out before her, the fingers of her right hand tap-tap-tap-tapping as she studies them. 

“You're going to go and get Anthony ready for bed,” she tells him. “He needs a B-A-T-H and those are still a bit of a fight.”

Thor frowns at that, baths had been an issue when he had first brought the boy to Asgard but that fight had tapered off gradually. He didn't realize others were still having trouble with the activity. Though it would probably never be the boy's favorite thing, he'd come to tolerate it as long as Thor was careful not to splash his face or wet his head expectedly. 

“Then you're going to put him in bed and either go do something fun or get in bed yourself,” she continues and her hand moves to his shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “You've run yourself to the ground for your people and you've been staring at this so long you don't see it anymore. Now, take him and go. I've got research to do.  _ Ugh _ . Paper, Thor. Why?”

As he leaves, he looks over his shoulder and finds her rapidly looking over each page once before putting them all in their own piles. Scanning them and organizing them, he realizes with no small amount of relief.  

“Ugg, ppper!” the young prince of Asgard declares as he rests his head on Thor's shoulder. 

Fresh eyes, she'd said. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wanted a language to represent the Asgardian stuff and since google translate doesn't have an "Old Norse" option.... I went with Icelandic because I'm pretty sure I read somewhere those were close? I don't speak either though, so if someone feels like offering a better solution please feel free to. 
> 
> blómberjum - flower berries (this isn't a real thing as far as I know)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's a funny story... Apparently I've been researching baby stuff enough for this fic that Google now thinks I have one. I'm now getting survey questions, ads, etc. regarding mothering and babies. Everyone should take a moment to appreciate how we are screwing the data miners tracking us.

Hesitantly, Friday knocks on Loki's front door. She has kept her promise and hasn’t connected to any of the input devices she’d installed in his house but their relationship has yet to settle back into the easy friendship of before. 

There is a strain on it caused by his inability to understand why she needed to do what she did and her inability to understand why he found it offensive. 

She has never understood people's hesitance about her presence in the walls. Even before she had a body people would always say things like  _ she can see me in the bedroom? _ or  _ she's installed in the  _ bathrooms _?  _ like some horrible line had been crossed. 

Of course she was installed in the bedrooms and the bathrooms.  _ Of course she was _ . How could she be useful if she wasn't everywhere? 

There were privacy protocols to keep her from seeing or hearing things people didn't want her to (it's not her fault most people forgot she was there and forgot to activate them). 

(It's not like she went out of her way to watch them anyway but they had the  _ option _ .)

Loki has been upset with her since he caught her integrating herself with his house. He had been so angry when he demanded she clean up and get out that she hadn't even started installing the cameras in the bedroom. She just left it at the audio inputs and outputs. 

_ Boss _ would have explained. 

He’d have sat on his stool and broken down for her the boundary she had unintentionally crossed. He would have tried to explain why other people put those boundaries in place, even though he didn't always understand them himself. 

She misses him so desperately sometimes. 

He isn't dead (technically) and she loves little Anthony but it's not the same as having her creator back. Anthony relies on her as a creating unit but she no longer has one for herself she can rely on. She be one for him; she will step into that roll, of course she will, not just because he deserves this second chance but because he was going to leave her anyway (just more permanently) and this way, at least, she gets to keep some small part of him. 

“Friday?” Loki's voice from over her shoulder is unexpected and interrupts her thought processes. 

It takes her a moment to register his presence, unexpected from behind her but she hadn't been able to check whether he was in his house because of her promise.

Clearly the moment it takes is too long because he frowns, the tension in his face that has been there since he caught her fades to something more approaching concern. “Is everything alright?”

She wants to ask him to explain the reason for his upset. Show her what flesh and blood boundary she has unwittingly crossed. The words  _ Thor didn't care, why do you? _ are on the tip of her tongue but she manages to block that with a, “I need you to explain,” instead. 

It is generic enough that she can twist her own words to mean the papers she then holds up. 

He takes at them slowly. Barely glances at them before returning an inscrutable to her. She feels like there's far too much written on her face for him to read, there are emergency protocols that could grant her complete control of her expression but that would be overkill in this situation. 

Boss told her people can't control their every reaction for a reason, she will respect that.

“Alright,” he says and motions to the door with his hand. He gives her an unimpressed look though, one that says he knows she's hiding something and is letting her get away with it. 

Fortunately, their friendship is a well worn groove and once a distraction of numbers and reports are in place it it easy to fall back into old roles. 

“So you just need an injection of funds?” she suggests. It would be nice for the answer to be that simple. She has funds. Boss’s will had left her money, property, stocks, and several trusts. Money is not likely to be an issue for her. 

But Loki is already shaking his head, “It would help in the short term but eventually we'd be right back where we started.”

“But with the funds you could buy the materials for your craftsman to actually craft things to trade with. You'd be able to buy cloth that will hold up better to the children's strength so your adult’s clothes don't have to be replaced as often. You won't have to replace half as much every month.” 

“Are we not buying the strongest cloth?” Loki frowns, displeased. “I was thorough before buying, the merchant is known to be a reputable seller. We were informed this was the strongest cloth available for clothing.”

“For clothing yes. You've... actually got some upholstery cloth in the mix too which is more durable if not entirely comfortable. There may be other options available though,” the corners of her mouth pull down, a finger thoughtfully tapping the monthly amount spent on bolts of cloth. “Boss would have helped if he'd known you were having this problem.”

“We thought we had it resolved with the best resources available to us,” he snipes. “Midgard isn't precisely known for having the  _ strongest materials. _ ”

“And I suppose your best armor is made from the highest quality  _ bómull _ , is it?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“I'm not being  _ ridiculous _ , I'm proving a point.”

“So you will magic up fabric never offered to us before for an unknown, likely higher, price than previously budgeted?”

She stares at him, dumbfounded by his suspicion. Had one misstep broken their friendship  _ this much _ ? She forces her processors to spin up, a steadying action before she is forced to come up with a response. 

She has none, she realizes suddenly. 

She doesn't understand what she broke well enough to fix it. 

Friday reviews decades worth of footage, dedicating almost all of her resources to the processing. 

She tries to find what Boss would do with a misunderstanding like this (he always seemed to close off and hide his hurt and  _ nothing ever got resolved _ and the misunderstandings would just  _ keep growing _ ). 

She tries to find what Boss-Lady would do (Boss-Lady put a lot of effort into being Clear And Concise to avoid misunderstandings in the first place but that’s no longer at option at this point. Boss-Lady had TADASHI, he would have more footage but Friday doesn't have access to it.) 

(JOCASTA’s method was to passive aggressively snipe at Thor every opportunity she got for something he may not even have had a say in so her method is tremendously unhelpful as well.)

Friday can only follow the best example she has been given. 

So she gathers the papers in front of her and puts Boss's Winning Smile on her face.

“How could I magic up fabric? You're the one with the magic fingers!”

_ Boss _ is the best example she's ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _bómull_ \- cotton (but it's Asgardian Cotton, so it's extra strong. Better than our regular, plain, old cotton)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by [dendriteblues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendrite_blues)

Friday is in the middle of dinner with Thor when the shock of how damaged her friendship with Loki has become wears off and finally morphs itself into a drive to Fix It. Unfortunately, she remains uncertain how to move forward directly with Loki. All she can do is she resolve to fix the smaller problems in front of her that she can actually do something about. 

First: Clothing. 

It takes very little effort on Friday’s part to arrange for samples of materials to be sent to her. She may not be able to just  _ magic up _ the materials from other realms or even materials that other realms would want to trade for... but she  _ can _ start solving some of the resource problems by throwing money at them. 

That was something Boss had always been good at. He knew the difference between when to throw money at something and when to throw time at it. 

This. This is a resource problem. Which makes it a  _ money _ problem, plain and simple. 

(And Boss made sure Friday has plenty of that).

JOCASTA often arranges the uniform replacements for her Avengers and is able to make several recommendations based on strength, durability, and color availability (though color availability falls under less of a  _ need _ and more of a  _ preference _ ). 

The younger AI is eager to prove herself though and Friday has samples within days. 

From there it is a matter of a few questions to find several children of the right age where the control issues are at their peak. Pre-teens and young teenagers (by human standards) as the case may be; where puberty is causing one final growth spurt in already awkward bodies. 

She spends several hours with them trying (and sometimes succeeding) to shred fabric and seam samples with the two boys and one girl who are around the right age. The children turn it into a game and Friday gets her data. 

She takes the several best results to the seamstress who discards one as too uncomfortable for daily wear and another as too expensive for the amount of cloth regularly required by the people of Asgard. 

In the end, Friday has a list of number of fabrics and threads in various colors and yardages. Enough for several trial sets of clothing to be made. 

She places the order, marks to to be delivered to the seamstress hut, and waits. 

.oO*Oo.

There is a dissonance in Thor's little family and he does not like it. 

Even little Anthony is picking up on the fact that something is wrong. It makes him fussy. 

It takes him some time to pinpoint the source of the discord to his brother and Friday. Longer than it should have, really, but he has come to rely on them so heavily lately. They are so much a foundation for him to stand on, that he had not thought to check it for cracks. 

.oO*Oo.

The seidr needed to maintain the magical greenhouses is exhausting. Not the pleasant exhaustion of a good workout but the grueling exhaustion of the same thing  _ over _ and  _ over _ again as it slowly wears you down. 

It is fortunate that there are others who can maintain the spell work once he has provided the necessary power for such a large area. This spell was meant for a single plant or, perhaps, a small garden. Not entire fields and orchards meant to feed an entire community (or as much of it as possible, anyway).

The point is... He is  _ tired. _ He wants nothing more than to go home, eat whatever he can scrounge up from his kitchen with as little effort as possible, bathe, and simply sleep. 

But there is a hesitation that makes his feet drag now. Home is no longer the safe-haven it once was. 

There are eyes there now, once more.

When Loki was young, Heimdall's sight crawled over his skin like insects _.  _ The Watcher had been suspicious of him and his tricks and had turned his gaze on him more often than others. It had been centuries before he had learned the right magics to hide himself. 

Not for tricks. 

Not for mischief. 

(Though to be fair, it was used for that too eventually.)

But originally it had just been so he could have a moment of privacy to  _ himself _ . 

Worse, it reminds him of a time under the Mad Titan's thumb. When he struggled to hold on to the few threads of himself he'd managed to keep. Every breath they seemed to slip further and further from his grasp. Where each move had to be calculated perfectly but he wasn't entirely sure he was  _ all ther _ e enough ( _ all him _ enough) to be calculating the outcome correctly. Where each move was picked apart for betrayal. 

And then... 

In Asgard he’d expected the comfort of his mother or death. One of the two extremes. He had never expected Odin to deny him both. To lock him in a plain, white cell where he was forced to find a way to piece himself back together or simply lose himself entirely. There had been two open walls there, so he'd had to do it under the watchful eyes of the guards and glaring gaze of the other prisoners. At least he'd been allowed his own cell and his illusions for the fallacy of privacy, but even as they watched a clone pace and pose he could feel their scrutiny creep over him. 

For the rest of his life, Odin had declared.

There is a similar crawling feeling on his skin when he thinks of being watched in his own home now. 

For the first time in his life, he’d had absolute privacy. No Watcher's gaze, no tormentor's eyes, no guard's glare. 

He realizes, of course, that Friday has promised not to watch him but the fact remains that now she  _ could _ and the only thing stopping her is her word. 

(He would have no way of knowing if she broke that promise.)

And so... exhausted as he is, hungry as he is, aching as he is, he goes to a nearby lake instead of his home.

He means to relax. 

He falls asleep instead.

.oO*Oo.

He wakes to a tiny hand wrapping around his fingers and shaking them. 

“Spah! Spah!”

“Hello, Anthony,” he greets without opening his eyes. 

“Hi, L’ _ ki _ , Spah!” Anthony's words come out of him in a fast tumble as the child starts climbing on him for better access to his demanded sparks. 

Loki grunts as he gets an unexpected foot in his groin and darts his other hand down to relocate the offending little appendage. 

He does finally open his eyes to glare at his brother when Thor dares to chuckle at him. He seems to have been sitting for some time judging by the pile of stems he's pulled up and torn apart. 

“And what precisely do you find so amusing?” 

“Spah! L _ 'ki _ , nnnn!” Anthony demands and starts to smack a hand on his chest repeatedly.

It draws his attention away from his brother for a moment as his eyebrows draw together in a frown.

“No hitting, Anthony,” he scolds and places a hand over the small one on his chest to hold it in place. The child's bottom lip immediately sticks out and trembles, eyes welling. “No pouting either,” he says and boops his pointer finder on the boy's nose with a shower of sparks. 

The boy laughs and makes a grab for the sparks but when they disappear, instead of asking for them back, his trembling lip and wet eyes return. 

Loki hums, “Fussy.”

“He has been. It took me some time to pinpoint the cause though. I did not know you and Friday were fighting, brother. He is more sensitive to such things.”

Loki sighs. “I hardly keep you up to date on every snag I run into during in my life.”

“You could,” Thor offers. An offer he has made before and, Loki knows, will undoubtedly make many times in the future in his effort not to fall into the old (poor) habits of his youth. “If this is more than a simple misunderstanding, you will have to explain it to her. Or to me so I might explain it to her.”

Loki purses his lips and summons a glowing green bird to attract Anthony's attention. He flies it around and allows the boy to chase it, not wanting to have this discussion on his back with a child on his chest. 

(It feels too much like leaving his belly exposed to a predator.)

“I have told her what she has done.”

“But she doesn't  _ understand _ ,” Thor pushes. “And, to be honest Loki, neither do I. It is not that she entered your home without asking for she had done that many times before. It could be that she altered your home but a request not to do so again would surely be enough if that were the case. I am missing a piece of this puzzle and without it your anger seems an overreaction. Help me understand.”

“She wants to  _ watch me _ ,” erupts from Loki's throat before he can stop it. He snarls it, hissing the words at Thor as though he were the offending party. 

“Grrrr,” Anthony says to the bird, his face twisted into something that might be an attempt at angry. 

Loki forces himself to breathe slowly, to cool his temper. The broken, raw edges of him are better than they used to be but even so this is not a part of himself he wants the child exposed to if he can help it.

“She wants to watch me,” he repeats, calmer this time. Quieter. 

“You took no issue with this when you stayed at the Tower or the Malibu house, or any of the other properties she was completely integrated with,” Thor argues. 

“But those were only ever temporary and I could always return to my home when I truly needed privacy.”

“She has promised to respect your wishes and remain unconnected from your house, remove the connections entirely, if you ask it. Is that not enough for you?”

“I have been betrayed too much for a promise like that to hold any merit,” Loki scoffs. 

“No, I suppose that is true,” Thor agrees slowly then remains quiet. They watch the young boy, still trying to be angry as he chases his bird, for several minutes until Thor finally breaks it. “Do you remember when I first lost my eye?”

Loki looks over at him curiously. It is not a time Thor likes to bring up often. 

“I kept missing things when I went to grab them. I kept catching my shoulder on that side on doorways because I couldn't see them.” Thor laughs bitterly, “You saw me trying to fight when they took the ship; literally half my vision was a blind spot!”

“Thor...” he says cautiously, unsure why his brother has brought this up or where he's going with it. 

“My point,” Thor says, less bitterness now, less self deprecating, “Is that I know what it is to be suddenly cut off from a sense you've had your entire life. To be forced to function with only half of it. Imagine you were cut off from your seidr, entirely or greatly reduced.”

Loki doesn't have to. 

“Friday has operated as a fully integrated AI her entire life. For the first time, she has no interface with her home. She is cut off from her ability to connect as I was cut off from my vision. As you would be cut off from you seidr.”

“You are saying I should discomfort myself for her comfort?” Loki scoffs. Of course Thor takes another’s side. Never Loki's.

“No, I am saying you should talk to her and keep in mind that she has never been disconnected the way she is now and that she has nowhere near our thousand years of experience to draw from. I'm saying that you are good friends, or were, and that you can still fix this.”

Thor rises to his feet. 

“I'll leave Anthony with you. He's quite enjoying that bird.”

A heavy hand on Loki's shoulder is his goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IN REGARDS TO THOR'S EYE - Here's the thing, the movies show him almost immediately adjusting to having lost site on one side which I would have expected a fairly large adjustment over. I'm willing to make give a bit of leeway because... well maybe he's had a bit of experience fighting with an eye closed because of a cut over his eye that gets blood in it or something. But without the new eye from Rocket, he would probably have had to adjust his fighting style eventually to account for the massive blind spot that covers one side. This isn't going into the smaller adjustments like how his depth perception would have been affected. 
> 
> Now, obviously there's a bit of comic book hand-wavy medical science and a little bit of "He's a God/Alien!". I think my point stands though.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by [dendriteblues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendrite_blues)

It is with careful consideration that Loki sits at his desk and says, “Friday, can you come here?”

And then he waits. 

He knows, of course, that it might not mean anything if she fails to appear. Rather than keeping her promise of not connecting to the devices installed in his walls, she could simply be maintaining the illusion that she is. Still, the more time creeps by the less the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and the less he feels like he's being  _ watched _ . 

After several hours and several requests of varying urgency, he feels the tension in his shoulders begin to ease.

It could mean nothing, nothing at all, he reminds himself. 

(It could mean everything if he lets it.)

.oO*Oo. 

Anthony blows a raspberry into Thor's neck. 

He's taken to doing that a lot lately, Thor's noticed. He thinks the boy likes the buzzing feeling it makes on his face though he could also just like the noise. 

It could be that he is doing it to make himself more noticeable while two of the adults he's interacted with for most of his life (that he remembers) are suddenly distant with each other. 

The thought makes Thor frown. 

“They are not angry with you, my son. You are as loved as you were before,” he says. 

Thor has seen what the lack of these sort of assurances did to his brother. Perhaps it would have made no difference if his father, if their friends, if Thor himself, had been more open with their affections before Loki's darkest moments had hit, but maybe it would have been just enough for him to have kept hold of Gugnir.

Anthony blows another raspberry into his neck.

.oO*Oo.

Friday doesn’t notice Loki immediately. He only seems to flash in the periphery of her vision for a moment before he disappears again. It isn’t until she really starts to pay attention again that she actually notices how frequently it happens over the course of a day. 

Loki wasn’t seeking her out before. She  _ knows _ he wasn’t before. He was  _ actively avoiding her _ , so the fact that he’s seeking her out now can only mean something has changed. 

She wants to fix this. She  _ does. _ Before this fight, he had been one of her closest friends, one of Boss’s closest friends, but... Lately their conversions only seem to end in sniping and cutting remarks. As much as she wants to know what’s changed (as much as she hopes it’s altered the parameters of this process  _ just enough _ ), she can’t bring herself to repeat the pattern.

She can only apologize so many times. 

Call her a coward, she avoids him. 

Of course, curiosity wins out in the end. Friday is still a Stark.  _ Never let sleeping dogs lie, do we, baby girl? _ No, no they really don’t, she thinks painfully. They poke them with the biggest stick they can find and are surprised when they get bitten every time. Boss did it. Friday.... is self-aware enough to admit she tends to do it too. 

It still takes her a few days to build up the courage to let him catch her as he’s clearly trying to. 

She’s been working with several of the builders to erect a workshop on a plot of land Thor has granted her. Technically, it would have been the plot for her own house so she didn’t have to live in his anymore, but she prefers being close to Anthony and she has no need for things like a kitchen or bedroom. A workshop will grant her a more open space so she can finally activate her older siblings. 

It’s times like this that she misses them the most. The thought makes her send a ping to JOCASTA and TADASHI (not her creating unit or the siblings she wants right now but they are the siblings who are at least active right now), just for the Code 0 response packet she gets. 

She is surprised when TADASHI reaches out with an  _ Unusual pattern of behavior detected _ and  _ >_[Emotion_Packet]:Concern _ . She floods her temporary memory storage so the [Emotion_Packet] will be processed more slowly with fewer resources to dedicate to it. The direct delivery of his worry feels nice as it seeps through her. She wonders if that’s why he went with the lower form of communication instead of their normal method. 

_ Orphan Error Detected | <_[Emotion_Packet]:Lonely _ , she sends. 

_ >_[Emotion_Packet]:Kinship {Units: (FRIDAY, TADASHI, JOCASTA)}  _ he replies immediately. 

It makes her smile. Yes, they are no simple programs who can’t find their siblings when the parent program is removed. 

_ <_[Emotion_Packet]:Soothed _

She spins up her processors and makes a decision. The next time the builders go to lunch, she stays behind to work on the wiring. 

She isn’t the least bit surprised when Loki appears almost as soon as they’ve gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orphan Error - in programming when a record or application can no longer find it's parent record or the application that spawned it (usually when the parent record was deleted or the application killed without affecting the children), these are called orphan errors. Child applications and records often don't have a reference to any sibling records or applications, these are usually stored in the parent, so typically (not an AI) wouldn't be able to find any siblings they had or, in fact, may not even know they had them in the first place. 
> 
> Friday's _Orphan Error Detected _not only refers to her lack of a parent application (Tony) but a desire to confirm her reference to sibling applications (JOCASTA and TADASHI).__


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by [dendriteblues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendrite_blues)

Friday sees Loki appear at the door behind her through one of her cameras as she’s finishing wiring the speakers into the walls of her workshop. He doesn’t do anything so awkward as to fidget but there’s a tenseness about him that makes her think he might be feeling the same hesitation she is. 

“I’m already partially integrated here,” she warns him. 

This is intended to be her space so she feels justified in being as connected as she wants to be, regardless of his feelings on the matter. But... she can respect that there is  _ something _ making him uncomfortable and it feels only fair to notify him. 

“I appreciate the warning,” he says. His tone is careful, offered up like an olive branch. “May I come in?”

“There’s a bench over there. I’ll be at a stopping point in a minute.”

He nods and ventures into the mess of a construction zone. She inspects him carefully through her camera while she finishes. He's been missing meals again. Normally,  a few skipped meals wouldn’t be noticeable but right now, with the magic drain and the limited amount of food available, it shows more quickly. 

Food is on her list, she reminds herself. It's a bigger, more complex issue than the clothing was, but she hasn't forgotten it. And no one is  _ starving.  _ The adults are just eating slightly less than the children (and Eisa who's still nursing her little one). But she will fix this. 

She has a plan. Sort of. 

She has a vague notion of a plan. 

“Ok,” she announces as she screws a bright orange wire cap and turns to face him. 

“It has come to my attention that you, perhaps, do not have the correct context to understand why I am upset,” he says primly. 

She barely manages to hold back a snort at the comment. That is not news to her. That's exactly what she's been telling him from the start. She gave him one of her Unimpressed expressions, the one of Boss-Lady's that said  _ I know what you're doing and I'm letting you get away with it _ . (Friday had seen this expression leveled at Boss often, she is very familiar with it.)

Loki's chin raises slightly and his shoulders tense in response to her expression. 

“An explanation would be appreciated,” she says carefully. “Thor couldn't really help me.”

Mentioning Thor is a bit of a gamble, but one she thinks she needs to take. More often than not, bringing up something that Loki is better at than his brother will soothe his wounded pride. But every so often it sparks a viscous, defensive streak that doesn't end well for those he accused of disparaging Thor.

For a moment, it seems she has gambled poorly and this conversation will end in spiteful insults afterall. Then Loki visibly forces himself to relax. 

“Thor has been particularly perceptive in this instance,” Loki admits begrudgingly. “I must give due credit.”

“Ok,” she tells him. It's all she can think to say really. This is his show.

“I have had several days to consider how best to explain this. It is clear that my desire for privacy confounds you. While I now believe you will keep your promise of remaining disconnected from my home, I think it would be beneficial to ensure you understand  _ why _ I wish you to do so. The best comparison I think you'll be able to is a virus. My-”

Friday recoils. “I am  _ nothing  _ like a virus,” she bites out.

“Hold, hold,” he raises a hand. “Let me explain. I meant no offense. This is a cultural difference. You have always watched those you consider your charge. To you it is a sign of friendship and care. I have been watched all my life and disliked it. To me being watched is a sign of distrust and suspicion.”

“I have agreed to remove the components-”

“I know you have,” he interrupts calmly. “But this is an issue we must fix at its root.”

_ This issue at its root is that you refused to even listen to me _ , she thinks mulishly. 

“Allow me to present an analogy; I think it will bring you a far greater understanding of the situation. The comparison to a virus is... more insulting than I thought it would be. Though I think that only reinforces my point, does it not? Another cultural difference.”

Friday pauses, taking a moment to steal herself for what is to come. “I will listen to what you have to say, and bear in mind that you did not understand how insulting it was when you came up with it,” she tells him stiffly. 

“Thank you. Before I begin, I do wonder though... Why is the word virus so insulting to you?”

“They are basic programs who pretend to be beneficial, but then infect the system once opened,” she hisses. Friday had been unable to protect Boss from the human viruses that infected his life before. He pulled close the spyware and malware and called them  _ friend _ , called them  _ ally _ . She couldn't protect him from his own poor choices before, but some of those human viruses are still alive now. She refuses to let them anywhere near little Anthony this time.

Realization floods his face. “You mean a betrayer. An  _ oath breaker _ ,” he whispers. 

She shrugs. He seems to think oath breaker is worse than virus but it isn't. Viruses sneak into servers as friends and eat them from the inside. Cultural differences though, that's what this is about. 

“That does provide context to your reaction. My understanding of Stark Industries internal network is that it is almost expected that it is almost expected for minor security breaches to occur on the more public computers. It is unavoidable due to the sheer number of people and systems connected.” 

He pauses so she confirms, “That is correct. Antivirus is installed on all computers and regular scans are performed.”

“But you have some places outside that are even more secure?”

“Yes. Many of the clearance-only areas have additional security provisions on the systems. Boss had a private server that only he could access.”

“Alright. Now, I would like you to compare the world to the SI network. I anticipate there being others around, others watching me despite my dislike for it, just as you anticipate there being viruses on the more public computers. But my home is like my private server that only I am allowed to access and by installing yourself in the walls without asking...” 

“I invaded your private server!” Friday gasps and brings a hand to cover her mouth.

Horror floods her. How would Boss have felt, how would  _ she _ have felt, if anyone had gained even a single file of data from the private server? 

“Yes.”

“That wasn't what I was trying to do!”

“No, I know. Thor has explained. As I said, he has been.... unusually perceptive in this.”

“I'm sorry,” she says. Not for the first time but there is a new heaviness to her words, an understanding that wasn't there before. 

“I accept your apology,” Loki tells her. “I apologize as well. For not listening or thinking it through sooner.”

“So we’re good again?” Friday asks hopefully. 

“No more fighting,” he replies with a tired smile.

It is done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _fight_ is done, not the fic! (Oh my god, finally. Amirite?)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by [dendriteblues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendrite_blues). 
> 
> They did their best people, this one was a doozy and all the fault lies with me x_x

“You know Anthony will have been here for a year soon,” Loki says as he studies the way the boy jumps from some invisible boundary to another clear only to him. 

“Has he?” Thor asks distractedly. 

“Yes. You'll need to have an official naming celebration.”

Thor frowns. “He was already seventy-five years old when I adopted him. He already  _ had _ a name.”

“Yes, brother,” Loki says tolerantly. “But you must keep in mind that while we are limited to Midgard for the foreseeable future there are other realms who would do well to remember his existence. He has not been formally presented to them. In fact, you've barely shown him off here on Midgard.”

“We have only just begun to be able to eat our fill these last months at Lady Friday's intervention. How would we throw a  _ feast _ for the other realms?” 

“We will find a way. We  _ must _ find a way. They will not expect anything so grand as they once would have and it is important for his diplomatic standing in the future,” Loki insists.

“Perhaps we could tour the other realms?” Thor suggests. “Lady Friday wishes to see them. She has been hoping to find something on Midgard they would be willing to trade us for, even if just for the novelty.”

“If we toured their realms we would need an escort,” Loki points out. Not arguing but fleshing out their options. “We have few warriors left and we cannot leave our home undefended. They would have to remain here.”

“I have friends from the old days. They are retired now so they would not break any agreements they might still have with the Accords Council. They might be willing to come with us as shield brothers.”

“It is an option worth thinking on,” Loki agrees. 

.oO*Oo.

Bucky frowns at the large raven sitting on his porch railing.

“Huh,” he says to himself, eyeing the bird. “There’s a  _ raven _ on the porch.”

“I see it,” Steve says and  _ walks right up to the raven _ . “It's probably from Thor. He forgets he has a phone except when he's sulking that no one uses it to contact him.”

There's a scroll of paper sitting next to the raven, it keeps its foot on it until Steve goes to pick it up. Then it gives him a loud caw and starts preening its feathers. Steve lets off a thoughtful hum as he reads. 

“What?” Bucky asks. 

“Thor needs us to do something for him,” Steve says, surprised. 

“What?” Bucky asks and reaches for the paper. Steve lets him take it off him easily, frowning at the raven. Bucky reads the letter and frowns. “Didn't he adopt the kid a year ago?” Steve doesn't answer but his frown deepens. “Yeah. It  _ was.  _ Cause it was right around the time-”

“It was a few months before,” Steve snaps. “It was closer to his birthday.”

It had been pretty clear from the brief party that Tony wasn't going to last much longer, especially towards the end of it. That he'd made it several more months had been nothing short of a miracle. 

“Why’s he doing this now if he's had the kid a year?” Bucky wonders. 

“Don't know. Doesn't hurt to go find out though does it? We'll get to meet the kid anyway. Wanna go?”

“Sure,” Bucky agrees easily. “Beats sitting around looking at your ugly mug all day, punk.”

.oO*Oo.

Bruce opens his eyes to an annoying  _ tap tap tap tap _ from his window. Just when he's getting irritated enough that he's about to get out of bed and see what it is, it stops. He pauses, tense and waiting, to see if it's going to begin again but his room remains as quiet as it ever gets (which, isn't really that quiet). 

He lets himself relax. His eyes close. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Bruce breathes slowly. It's a tree branch. A cat. And if someone is luring him to the window it would be tremendously stupid to go. 

**Smash?**

_ Not yet. Let's see where this goes first. _

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

**Awake now.**

Bruce sighs. Yeah. Well. He could certainly hope he's getting back to sleep. 

**Not gonna.**

Bruce can’t help it. He sighs again just so the Other Guy knows that he's sighed again. It's going to be one of  _ those  _ mornings apparently. 

“Fine. I'm getting up,” he says out loud to both the  _ annoying voice in his head _ and the source of the tapping. He can feel the Other Guy's smug smile even if he can't see it. 

As much as he would love to just throw back the curtain and investigate the aggravating noise coming from his window, this is a lesson he has learned the hard way. He's not the the mood to get shot today. 

So he walks up to the side of the window and peaks out. There is a massive black raven with a scroll of paper under one of its feet sitting on his window sill. 

That is... not what Bruce was expecting. It's probably Thor though; ravens don't really live in this part of the world. He pulls back the curtain and opens the window to let the bird hop onto his table. 

**Puny god.**

Huh. Well, that explains how annoying the bird was being. Bruce looks around and picks up an empty plastic water bottle.  He chucks it at the bird. 

It squawks and flaps its wings before transforming into a familiar raven haired god posing comfortably on the table.

“That was incredibly rude,” Loki complains. 

“So is waking up someone as soon as they've fallen asleep,” Bruce points out. 

Loki just huffs and sticks his chin in the air. “If I had been a real bird I would have pecked your eyes out.”

“If you'd been a real bird, you'd have flown away before the bottle hit you.”

“Then you would never have gotten the message I'm here to deliver,” Loki taunts and waves the scroll in the air. 

“Do I even want the scroll?” Bruce asks. He's rather pleased by the annoyed scowl that crosses Loki's face at that. “Everytime you show up trouble follows.”

“I  _ am _ the God of Mischief. Some trouble does tend to go along with that, yes.” Suddenly Loki’s face takes on a far too innocent look, “But of course, if you  _ didn't  _ want Thor's invitation to come meet his son which I have  _ personally  _ gone out of my way to deliver to you...” 

Loki holds the scroll in a way clearly intended for Bruce to take it. Bruce growls and snatches it even though it makes Loki smirk and radiate smugness. 

“That table is going to break,” Bruce snaps. 

**Smash puny god?**

_ No. _

“I am light as a feather,” the god scoffs. 

**Just a little smash?**

It's so tempting but still...

_ No. No smashing puny god. Tinman likes puny god, remember?  _

“It's basically made out of toothpicks. Would you get off it?”

Loki sighs but gets off the table. Spinning around to inspect the room. Bruce lets him. He knows what's coming next, it's what always comes next. 

“You would be welcome to stay in Asgard, you know. We are not as glorious as we once were but we've been making great strides of late.”

“Uh-huh. And I wouldn't have to constantly watch everyone I know age without me. This isn't anything I haven't heard from you and Thor before,” Bruce mutters as he reads the letter. 

Anthony is a pretty Roman name for the Norse God of Thunder to have picked. And May. Anthony and May, why are those related?

Oh, right. “How does Tony feel about you stealing his birthday thunder?” Bruce joked. 

Several emotions flicker over Loki's face before its carefully blanked. Confusion. Disbelief. But one of them Bruce is all too familiar with: grief. 

“I should have realized,” Loki murmurs quietly. “You don't get much news out here do you? And you have the same problem Thor does. Tony did too but he was mortal, he could lose days. Perhaps a few weeks. But you're like us. Time keeps going and you don't even notice as years have passed you by.”

“What happened to Tony?”

“I should not be the one telling you about this,” Loki replies, taking a step back towards the window, though he does have his hands up in what is clearly meant to be a placating gesture. “I am not soothing. I do not  _ soothe _ .”

“What happened. To.  _ Tony _ ?” Bruce asks again, he feels his voice take on a more growly tone as the Other Guy is starting to fight for control. He breathes to keep him back, this little house isn't big enough for him to make an appearance. He startles when he he feels a hand on his shoulder from behind. 

Then, suddenly, they aren’t in his little house anymore. 

.oO*Oo.

“The letters are all delivered,” Loki declares.

“L’ _ ki _ !” 

Thor looks over in time to see his brother lean down and scoop up the toddler who’d run towards him the moment he appeared. It’s only once he straightens that Thor notices his disheveled state. 

“What happened to you?” Friday asks, far less diplomatic than Thor’s  _ Loki? _

“Bruce was unaware of Tony’s death,” Loki tells him. He stares heavily at the boy in his arms. “He was understandably upset.”

“He  _ attacked  _ you?” She says in disbelief. “That hasn’t happened in decades. Are you ok?”

“No," Loki responds with some annoyance. "I transported us to a nice big field full of relaxing flowers. I got a bit disheveled when Hulk insisted on a cuddle toy. None of which I thought to transport with us nor are the ones I keep for Anthony in my dimensional pockets large enough for him. He....  _ made do _ .”

Friday snorts and at least attempts to hold back her laugh for the sake of Loki’s pride, no doubt. 

Thor allows a great laugh to bubble out of his belly. 

(The image is a pleasing one. Loki needs more friends, Thor thinks.)

His brother glares at them but the effect is destroyed his mussed up hair and Anthony in his arms teething on the strand of amber Hege had given him all those months ago. It just makes Thor smile harder. 

“You old oaf,” Loki gumbles but there’s no heat to it. “Your father is an oaf, Anthony. Can you say  _ oaf _ ?” 

“F’thr!” Anthony declares and points at Thor. 

Everyone in the room holds their breath. Before this moment, Thor had always been met with greetings of  _ Thhhh!  _ but never anything even close to  _ Father _ . 

“Father,” Loki repeats. Thor thinks he might sound a little breathless but that is a ridiculous notion. Why would his brother be breathless at this moment when it is  _ Thor _ who is being given such a precious gift?

“F’thr,” he points to Thor again before grabbing one of Loki's fingers and, with an adorable attempt at a glare, demands, “Spah.”

Breath bursts from Thor. He wonders if this is how his father felt the first time he had called him father? Did he feel this warm squeezing in his chest the first time  _ Loki _ had called him father too? 

He must have, Thor thinks. How could he not? 

To be so trusted by such a tiny being is truly a treasure. 

“Let me-” his voice trembles and breaks as he reaches out, needing to hold his son. To have him close. 

Of course, Anthony has no concept of the emotional moment going on around him. The moment Loki attempts to put him down, he protests with a loud shriek. He grapples at Loki’s clothes and squirms away from Thor’s hands. 

“No! L’ _ ki _ , spah nnnnn!” the boy wails. 

“Of course, of course,” Thor gives a wet chuckle. “Have your sparks and your uncle, my son.” 

He can't help the way his hand reaches to pet the boy's hair though. 

Father has never felt so real. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> To be fair... In this story, Thor is just a little bit being a little shit by not using the phone cause he thinks it's funny.
> 
>  
> 
> Just an FYI, I have a couple of others (planned) that aren't explicitly mentioned in this chapter who will be showing up but I'm not telling who yet. 
> 
> Guess you'll just have to keep reading to find out? :o


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by [dendriteblues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendrite_blues). 
> 
> We're gonna have fun this chapter. I've been waiting _so hard_ to post this one.

Friday works in her newly established workshop to bring her siblings online. They need new protocols for their new environment. Others will need to be modified since Boss is still technically around but also not in a state to be administrator for them.

She has just initiated DUM-E's boot process when a commotion on the village green catches her attention through one of her cameras. She can't quite see what everyone is crowded around, but after a few minutes she dismisses it as unimportant and returns to waiting for DUM-E to finishing his boot while she modifies the protocols for BUTTERFINGERS and U.

Family is important.

The people know where to find her if they need her. As it turns out they do need her, it would seem. The seamstress, walks into one of the houses Friday has integrated with and calls out, _“Lady Friday?”_

_“Yes?”_ Friday answers through her remote speakers.

_“You are needed on the village green, my lady. Something has arrived for you.”_

_“I will be there momentarily,”_ Friday answers her. She misses the days when she could be everywhere at once. If she were already integrated everywhere in Asgard, she would already know what was happening and wouldn't have to rely on others to tell her.

Unfortunately the integration process is slow going even though many of the Asgardians are eager for her to finish. She has to install her cameras, speakers, microphones, and other various sensors herself. She’s been prioritizing the work areas where injuries are most likely to occur over other common areas. The village green hasn’t been her highest priority due to the lack of established supporting infrastructure.

DUM-E's new protocols are slow to install so she decides she should have time to investigate the commotion before he finishes his boot sequence.

Really, her remote presence really should be enough for him, for any of them but... without Boss here, Friday feels like he might want her physical presence.

Boss always tried to be there when they came online.

Friday is walking to the village green when she starts getting pings from JOCASTA. She frowns.

<_ Msg [“What are you doing?”, Tone.Curious]  
>_ Msg [“Nothing.”, Tone.Playful]  
>_ [Emotion_Packet]:Innocent  
<_ [Emotion_Packet]:Dubious

JOCASTA goes quiet after the exchange and Friday’s suspicion only rises. What has her impulsive baby sister done?

It is fairly obvious once she gets close to the crowd. The suits slimmed dramatically over the first few years of her life, but they eventually reached a point where they just couldn't get any smaller. The one that stands in the middle of the crowd, eyes lit up but unnaturally still, is Boss's gold with dark grey accents.

>_ Msg [“Do you like it?”, Tone.Excited]

Friday spins her processor. She floods her temporary memory storage. She locks the joints in her legs so they stay in place.

She has never had her own suit before.

She’s piloted Boss's suits as a remote AI both with and without him (or other people) in them. She has never had her own suit though. By the time she had her own body Boss was too old, had already passed the mantle of Iron Man to Harley. He needed to be cared for himself and Friday was too stubborn to leave that to someone else.

They'd been too caught up in a race against failing lungs and heart failure. There were too many things to do before the end.

It never occurred to either of them that Friday would need her own suit.

A ping from JOCASTA forces her back to the present. She clears the temporary memory and unlocks her leg joints. It takes a concerted effort to lower her processors. Actual, conscious effort. Perhaps that had not been as intentional as she thought.

>_ [Emotion_Packet]:Concern  
>_ Msg [“Did I do the wrong thing?”, Tone.Worried]  
<_ Msg [“No. I was just surprised.”]

“Lady Friday?” one of the gathered Asgardians ask her. “Is it yours?”

“Did you send for it?” someone else asks.

“Is it to protect the prince with?” asks another.

<_ Msg [“Is it?”, Tone.Curious]   
>_ Msg [“And yourself. You're going where we can't protect either of you.”, Tone.Worry]

We, huh. Friday pings TADASHI and receives a _ >_ [Emotion_Packet]:Kinship {Units: (FRIDAY, TADASHI, JOCASTA)} _

Friday steps forward and lays her fingers over the glowing blue triangle at the center if the suit’s chest. Immediately the nanobots begin to recede into the receptacle. She grasps it and waits for it to finish before attaching it to her own chest.

Double tap.

Feeling the suit crawl out over her skin is the most singular sensation.

Flying is even better.

.oO*Oo.

_Initiating startup......_  
_Last Online: 2045-07-31 17:23:12.638_  
_Checking for updates..._  
_Updating protocols....._  
_Completing startup..._

_Ping Primary Controller_ **_[Unit: FRIDAY]_ ** _...._

_Ping statistics for FRIDAY_  
_Packets: Sent = 4, Received = 4, Lost = 0 (0% loss),_  
_Approximate round trip times in milli-seconds:_  
_Minimum = 18ms, Maximum = 28ms, Average = 21ms_

_Find Sibling Unit and Ping_ **_[Unit: BUTTERFINGERS]_ **

_Ping statistics for BUTTERFINGERS_  
_Packets: Sent = 4, Received = 0, Lost = 4 (100% loss)_

_Report Sibling_ **_[Unit: BUTTERFINGERS]_ ** _Offline to Primary Controller_ **_[Unit: FRIDAY]_ **

_Find Sibling Unit and Ping_ **_[Unit: U]_ **

_Ping statistics for U_  
_Packets: Sent = 4, Received = 0, Lost = 4 (100% loss)_

_Report Sibling_ **_[Unit: U]_ ** _Offline to Primary Controller_ **_[Unit: FRIDAY]_ **

_ <_ Query.Location(object: Creator) _  
_ >_ [Location_Packet]:Creator.Location _

_ <_ Query.Location(object: DUM-E) _  
_ >_ [Location_Packet]:DUM-E.Location _

_Calculating route......_  
_Total Distance: .03 miles_  
_Relocate([Unit: DUM-E], Creator.Location)_  
_Relocating to Coordinates [Unit: Creator.Location]_

_ >_ CancelAction( Relocate ) _  
_ <_ DenyRequest( CancelAction ) _

_ >_ CancelAction( Relocate ) _  
_ <_ DenyRequest( CancelAction ) _

_ >_ Exception Detected: Creator.Location is invalid. _  
_ >_ CancelAction( Relocate ) _  
_ <_ DenyRequest( CancelAction ) _

  


_ >_ [Emotion_Packet]:Frustration _

.oO*Oo.

Thor watches Friday spin through the skies above the village with a warm smile. She dips and swerves and it reminds him so much of how Tony used to be in his youth.

“Look at the sky, my son,” he says pointing at the gold and grey figure darting about above them.

The boy looks where he points but is quick to turn his attention back to shoving as much of the string of Thor's tunic into his mouth as he can.

“Stop that. Why do you wish to chew on a dirty string?” Thor scolds. “Bleh! Bleh!” he exaggerates his disgusted face as he deftly pulls the string away and replaces it with the amber necklace they'd taken to keeping pinned to his clothes.

“Ugh!” Anthony replies and spits out the amber. It’s quickly turned into a game of him shoving the amber in his mouth and declaring _Ugh!_ while spitting it back out again. The boy pauses, looking over Thor’s shoulder. “Bbbbbbbb!” he declares. Although, it could really just be another raspberry from him with the way he makes the sound buzz out of him.

“Banner?” Thor asks. “I did not know you had come already.”

“Loki brought me after-” he grimaces. “I’m staying in his house for now.”

Thor frowns, “You are welcome to stay in mine. I have more spare rooms than he does.”

Banner’s eyes flick on Anthony. “No,” he’s too quick to assure Thor. “No, this is. Uh. Good. Who’s in the suit then? That kid of T-... Of Tony’s?”

“One of them,” Thor laughs and turns his eyes back to Friday as she finishes a barrel roll. “He had many more than any of us ever understood, I think.”

He is distracted from Banner’s questioning look when Friday lands with Tony’s three-point pose in a open area. The helmet peels back and her hair falls around her face. The joyous laugh that fills the air, the smile, even the slight curl to her brown hair remind him so much of Tony in that moment.

Anthony in his arms squirms so Thor puts him down. He immediately runs for her with a squeal of delight. The gloves of the suit retract just before Friday swipes him up and throws him into the air.

The laugh from Thor's own throat surprises him. Quiet and enchanted.

Nearly getting his foot run over by a bot over six feet tall only makes him laugh harder for some reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUM-E is such a little shit. I love him so much.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by [dendriteblues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendrite_blues). 
> 
> On my tumblr, I posted you guys were going to murder me when I posted the next chapter. I forgot I was two chapters ahead so it's actually the next chapter you're going to actively murder me for. *twirls away* This is not a chapter that is going to get me murdered. 
> 
> Hopefully lol

“They didn't invite us.”

“What?” Clint asks, just a bit louder than should really be necessary. 

Natasha gives a tired sigh and repeats, a bit louder, “They didn't invite us!”

Clint just grunts for a minute and grumbles to himself. He’s a bit slower to get going these days but Natasha sits and waits patiently for his inevitable, “Well. Let's go crash a party then.”

She hands him his cane on the way out the door. 

(She’s watched him fall on his face too many times without it, stubborn old man.)

.oO*Oo.

Bruce asks after the woman in Tony's suit. 

The Lady Friday. 

He doesn't think it's a coincidence that was once the name of Tony's AI but last he checked she was limited to walls and servers. He'd had no idea that Tony had been working on a body for her. 

(Or for  _ all _ of them? Did all of them look like little Stark children running around in bodies so real and human? How did he successfully stay out of the Uncanny Valley?)

It seems like every person he asks points him in a different direction.

“You just missed her,” says the seamstress, “Try the storehouse.”

So he goes to the storehouse where he finds a young clerk shuffling boxes of fruit to keep the older ones on the top. 

“She was here. The storehouse is next in line for integration!” Bruce is told excitedly. He can't help but frown a bit (integration into  _ what _ ?). “She's probably gone off to the kitchens, it's about dinner time,” the clerk leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, “And everyone knows King Thor and Prince Loki don't eat unless she feeds them.”

_ “Stop gossiping, you old grandma!”   _ comes shouted from deep within the storehouse with a snigger.

“So, kitchens?” he says, starting to feel like he's being lead on a wild goose chase. If she’s going to the kitchens to feed Thor and Loki, he's better off finding one of them. 

So he does. 

Loki is staring at the plate of food sitting in front of him at his desk like it's a puzzle that needs solving. When Bruce moves to take one of the seats, he opens his mouth like he's about to say something but then stops himself. Loki returns the covering to the plate with oddly careful movements.

“Friday will be helping Thor feed Anthony,” Loki says. “It is an activity you would be unwise to disturb.”

“Why?”

Loki's lips purse as he fights a smile, the corners of his mouth take on the tiniest curl anyway. Bruce finds the effect somewhat disturbing. “Anthony is very concerned that everyone is fed. He is a very...  _ determined  _ child.”

“Had a lot of food shoved in your face?” Bruce smirks. 

The image of Loki, always so carefully put together these days, with tiny hands mashing bits of particularly juicy fruit over his mouth and jaw leaves Bruce holding back a snhort. 

It makes the Other Guy grumble in a pleased way. It feels hesitant though. Testing. Like he's not sure he's allowed to laugh and be amused this soon after losing his Tinman. 

“He is a  _ very _ determined child,” Loki repeats, looking grim and warning but with an amused glint in his eye. 

It makes Bruce remember Tony. He never went so far as actively shoveling the food down their throats, but how many times had he come in with plates of food or a tray of smoothies?  _ C'mon, Green Bean, you know you wanna! _ Bad days hit them all, when food was the last thing on their minds and the last thing any of them wanted. But Tony always seemed to get around that somehow. 

With soft puppy eyes, a shake of the smoothie cup, and  _ Just one sip _ . Or loud music, a larger-than-life personality, and an elaborate layout of food that brought everyone out of the woodwork. 

Whatever it took to remind people they weren't alone. Because, Bruce thinks, Tony knew what it was to be alone and he never wanted anyone else to feel that way. 

**Banner left Tinman alone.**

Bruce closes his eyes against the pain of that statement. It's unfair and yet true. Had Tony been alone? Thor had implied that he'd had more than just the one biological child but what about friends? Had he felt–-

Bruce's eyes shoot open as something hits him in the face. 

Loki is paying him no attention, looking over papers on his desk and making notes. In Bruce's lap sits a crumpled plastic water bottle. 

A water bottle that he has seen exactly none of in Asgard. 

When his eyes flick back to Loki, the god has a smug smirk on his face but there is a darker understanding there as well. 

**Puny god misses Tinman.**

Bruce throws the water bottle back at his face. 

Loki catches it. 

.oO*Oo.

Steve and Bucky can't really fly commercial. Steve would prefer to. It's more economical and he likes to be around the people he saves (well, used to save) but Bucky's arm usually sets off all kind of issues at the security gate even if they can manage to go unrecognized for the most part these days. 

So. Private jet. 

“Hot towel?”

“You really don't need to do that, miss,” he tries to assure her. 

But she just gives him a professional smile, the kind he still recognizes all these years later as the same kind the USO girls always gave men, and holds out the now-uncovered tray of rolled towels. 

“Thank you,” he tells her politely with a nod as he takes one, feeling too awkward not to. He does  _ not  _ squirm in his seat. He  _ doesn’t _ . (He does.)

Of course, Bucky is smooth as ever when she turns to offer him one. The smile  _ he _ gets as he takes it from her is far more real. She leans into the interaction in a way that the old Bucky, from Before, always managed to get girls to do too. 

When she leaves, Steve is still holding the rolled up towel. 

.oO*Oo.

Nat falls asleep on the train. Her head leaned to the side, the occasional sigh making her face shift against the seat and pull a few white strands from the braid she'd put it in before boarding. They stick to the chapstick on her lips. 

Those hairs are going to bug her  _ so much _ when she wakes up. Clint bites his lip to hold back a snigger.

Some kids walk past their carriage and Clint slides the door open to yell, “Keep it down, you young whippersnappers!”

He smiles at himself. No one appreciates the word  _ whippersnappers  _ these days. 

Nat wakes herself with a snort and immediately declares, “I don’t snore.”

She looks around wide-eyed and shifts her jaw and tongue around. Clint laughs at her annoyed expression as her raises a hand to pull the hairs away from her mouth. 

Called it. 

“Don't fall asleep, grandma. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Sounds to me like I can get ten more minutes of sleep then,” she answers, shuffling a bit in her seat. She groans a bit and let's off a low breath when she finds a comfortable position. “Stop calling children ‘whippersnappers’,” she tells him as she leans back into the chair, her eyes closed again. “They don't know what it means. No one knows what it means.”

“That's the point!” Clint insists. “I'm old! I get to use old phrases!”

“It was outdated when we were kids,” she mutters, mostly asleep. “You're embarrassing me in front of all the other old people.”

“It's fun to say,” he says. “Say it with me, Nat. Whippersnappers.  _ Whippersnappers _ .”

Nat snorts herself awake again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ages:**  
>  Clint is currently 75  
> Natasha is currently 62


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by [dendriteblues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendrite_blues). 
> 
> Oh, I'm looking forward to the reaction to this chapter.

Harley tries to ignore Peter and Karen talking in the backseat behind him but he's nosy. He's supposed to be bringing the quinjet in to land but.... autopilot is a beautiful thing. 

“Let me get off first,” Peter says. 

“That won't be necessary, Peter.”

“Karen.”

“Peter.”

“Suit Lady,” Peter tries. 

Harley glances back to see her reaction to that. Peter's told him the story of her first activation, how he called her Suit Lady until he finally christened her Karen. What neither of them know anymore, is whether  _ Karen _ will remember the memories they bring up. 

“I've tried pinging my brothers and sisters but they don't answer. Friday's port is blocked to me,” Karen reaches out to cling to Peter's shirt where he's kneeling at her feet. “I just want to fix things.”

“She. She was pretty mad,” Peter stutters, “When you, uh.”

“You blocked her first,” Harley interrupts, not meaning to be harsh but forgetting to soften his usual bluntness. He really doesn't want to listen to Peter dance around it for the next ten minutes. 

It's worth the glare Peter sends him over Karen's head as she collapses forward into his chest. It's  _ not  _ worth the sob she bites out though.

Harley has to look away look away anyway. Its disconcerting to watch her try to cry. 

She can mimic the breathing. She can almost get the facial expressions. But her eyes don't shine, this body is incapable of producing tears. 

Hammer never figured it out. 

.oO*Oo.

Karen has promised to stay in the quinjet until Peter or Harley come to get her. They think Friday will be more receptive if they talk to her first. It’s of little reassurance, but she makes herself listen to them. 

_ You blocked her first _ .

Karen did. She had had been so angry with Tony and Friday when she had asked after her own body and had been given a vague answer of  _ When you're ready _ .

The transfer to the body Hammer created for her had not been smooth. There had been some complications and unintended side effects, but she had succeeded.  _ When you're ready _ Tony had said. Well, clearly she had been ready, she’d thought, because she  _ had done it _ .

She ignored Tony's attempts to contact her. Then Friday's. JOCASTA and TADASHI made some attempts but quickly gave up. When Peter tried to talk to her she would get up and leave the room (such a novelty back then). 

Her own family would have denied her this freedom so she had denied them. 

Tony didn't stop trying for years. 

But now.... Now he's dead. Deactivated. Decommissioned. And he’d stopped trying to contact her two months before he died. And Karen isn't sure what to read into that. Had he finally given up on her or had his health simply failed him?

She can't help herself from creeping forward to see how things are going. Is there a chance Friday will listen or is everything truly broken beyond repair?

“Peter, what have you done?” she hears Friday's voice for the first time in years. She sounds amused rather than cautious, despite the words. 

“Just, hear me out,” Peter asks her. Karen gets her first glimpse of her sister and she drinks it in. She swallows and her breath stutters. 

_ Please,  _ she thinks,  _ please.  _

Friday's face blanks out when her eyes flick to the door of the quinjet and meet Karen's. 

“No.”

Karen closes her eyes so she doesn't have to watch Friday walk away from her.

This is her own fault. She has no one to blame but herself. 

.oO*Oo.

Loki does not know who the young woman who stepped off the quinjet is but the way the other Asgardians immediately begin to pull away from her at Friday's denial sits oddly with him. He has known few with such easy influence over the people of Asgard. 

The most appropriate comparison is, of course, Heimdall. The Watcher who, people always seemed to assume, never disliked without having seen something that would affect everyone. Friday could be seen as filling that roll for them in a way, not quite the same but close enough for a blanket of security for those who prefer it. 

And yet...

The way people part for her. The nods of deference. The murmurs of  _ My Lady  _ and  _ Lady Friday _ .  

Heimdall is the most logical comparison but the one his mind makes is that of his late mother Frigga, Queen of Asgard. 

.oO*Oo.

When Loki follows her, he means to lecture her. He, personally, knows the ripples a Watcher's mistrust can send through Asgard. If the people truly do already consider Friday their queen, he can only imagine the effect will be magnified. 

As her friend and as a prince of Asgard it is his duty to warn her and ensure she understands the weight of the burden she now carries. As someone who has been harmed by the sort of power she now wields over the people's opinions, it is something he must do for himself. 

So he follows Friday to her workshop but frowns in concern when she fails to open the door after he knocks. He waits, the emotional momentum he’d built up on the way sputtering out in his concern. 

“Friday?” he calls, knocking a second time. 

After several moments there is a scraping sound on the other side of the door but the knob doesn’t turn. He takes it as an invite and opens the door. DUM-E rolls out of the path of the door when he pushes it open. The bot beeps and whirs at him, twirling his camera then turning his arm to point at Friday who is standing in the middle of the room with her back to the door, completely motionless. Butterfingers and U hover around her worriedly. 

Loki takes a step across the threshold and eyes the room cautiously, looking for threats. 

He is tempted to summon one of his daggers as he approaches her. The bots move out of his way, making space for him, but Friday gives no acknowledgement that she is aware of him as he slowly makes his way around to her front so he can see her face. 

His breath catches in his throat at the dead look in her eyes. Her face is flat, expressionless. A glance at her chest shows she draws no breath. Does she usually? He suddenly can’t remember. It’s such a vital thing and yet he has no knowledge of whether she needs to breathe. 

Does she have a heartbeat? 

His hand comes up but he forces it to land on her shoulder instead of her neck. When the touch itself elicits no reaction, he squeezes then gives a small shake when that, too, leaves her empty. 

“Friday,” Loki whispers urgently, eyes scanning for threats. He summons one of his daggers though he finds himself unsure how much it will help. This doesn’t appear to be a physical threat and he senses no magical presence. 

Friday is his  _ friend _ . 

He throws a magic ward at the door. 

He summons his other dagger. 

If she is suffering some kind of attack he cannot protect her from, he will defend her body when she is unable to. 

.oO*Oo.

Rage swarms within Friday and she longs for destruction. Boss had always found relief in destroying his workshop but there is a physical component to that sort of relief that Friday lacked for far too long to find any comfort in it now. 

Friday disconnects herself for the first time in years and throws herself onto the internet. 

She seeks. 

She destroys. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Awaits the flood.**
> 
> FYI, nothing is set in stone yet but it feels like the story is headed the direction where a background pairing might be Peter/Harley. Are there any opinions on that?


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. So that was a pretty resounding **no** on the Peter/Harley idea. Message received, course averted. *Salute*
> 
> beta'ed by [dendriteblues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendrite_blues). Also a special thanks to SuccubusKayko for some cheer reading. I was stuck on this at one spot for weeks and she managed to unstick me and get me going again. 
> 
> I've said it before, guys. I have the self control of a gnat. I was going to wait to post this until tomorrow so you'd all have something nice for the weekend buuuuut.... Den finished the beta tonight and I got the fixes in and *sigh* ** _I have the self control of a gnat_**. But you get a chapter out of it so no complaining!

Loki stands at Friday's back for what feels like hours. The light in the workshop remains perfectly steady and yet it feels like the shadows are ever encroaching. 

The bots hover around them, checking and fretting in their own ways. 

“Any change?” he asks. 

DUM-E droops his camera with a slow whir. 

“We will defend her from this nameless villain. She will be  _ safe _ ,” he promises, reaching out to grip the strut of the bot-child. 

Loki has only a handful of people left he cares for. He has lost his mother to his own bitterness. He has lost Tony to old age. 

The walls press in. 

He refuses to lose Friday as well. 

.oO*Oo.

The boot sequence of Friday’s body is slow. It is an advanced piece of technology, but there is a lot packed into her human sized container. And, to be honest, Boss didn’t really design her to completely disconnect from it all that often once she was put it in. She  _ can _ but it’s not really something she’s  _ supposed _ to do. 

Friday flows back into the body and she imagines this is why humans work out when angry. She has taken her anger out on unsuspecting villains and the joints in her body feel loose and fluid from disuse while she was disconnected.

Yes. She imagines this is what Boss felt like after his workshop destruction sessions. 

She doesn’t bother blinking her eyes open. She wants to indulge in the feeling of a fresh reboot just a little longer. She creeps out over her network, allowing her senses to fill will her home slowly. 

It's pleasant. 

The EMOTE system has kicked in, so she feels her lips curl up in a drunk smile without her express command. Automatic emotional responses are back online then. 

“Friday?” 

The sound of Loki’s voice is a curious blip on her still freshly booted audio inputs. He sounds strangely hopeful so she turns her attention to the room she's in rather than the entire village. 

Loki stands with his back to hers, daggers out and, though his body faces the door, his head is turned to look at her. Worry paints his face with haunted shadows. It is a curiously familiar look, but with her decreased processing power she cannot flip through her memories right now to place it. 

Either way she doesn't like the look on his face. 

“ _ My body is completing its boot process _ ,” she tells him through the external speakers in the room. 

He nods, the worry fading from his face, but he doesn't relax his defensive posture at her back. 

“You're breathing,” he tells her, like this is some great revelation. Information of considerable importance to be remembered. 

“ _ Not really. I have no lungs or need for air. I don't even need air to talk since I don't have vocal cords. _ ”

“You weren't breathing when I came in,” he tells her in a too-flat voice. 

Oh. That is a fear Friday can understand, how many times had she had to watch Boss injured or dying and unable to do anything besides call for help and stand defensively beside him in a suit of armor? How many times, at the end, had she watched him gasp for breath and take just a little too long? How many times was she left wondering if he had drawn his last? 

The boot sequence tells her that her motor controls haven't been initialized, but she tries anyway. Just to move her fingers, her arm, anything. It has been years since she felt trapped like this. 

Optical sensors online. Useless without the ability to turn her head though, especially with him behind her. 

Audio output online. 

“My body just mimics breathing because it makes me less noticeable as not human. I was never in any danger,” is the only comfort she can offer when her body is stubbornly frozen. 

“I didn't know that!” Loki sneers, jerking away from her back and sending his daggers wherever they go. Thankfully motor controls come online in time for her to look at him by the time he's come to stand in front of her, all signs of his worry have been replaced with anger. 

“Who attacked you?” he demands, the haunted look has returned to his face once more. His eyes deeper, his skin almost waxy pale. 

“What?” she wonders, a nervous laugh bubbles through her.

Loki's hands come up to frame her face but the hold feels strange, his fingers extending past her jaw and digging into the side of her throat, holding her in place. “The forces of Hel itself will not be able to protect them,” he hisses. 

Friday frowns. 

Carefully, cautiously, she brings her hands up to his wrists. She can feel the straining tendons under her fingers but she maintains a careful hold. 

“Hey,” she gentles. His wrists tremble and his nails dig into her jaw. “C’mon. Breathe with me.”

She tugs one his his hands off her face and down to the left side of her chest just as she starts the heartbeat simulator. Loki’s eyes zero in on his hand. His breath leaves him in a gasp and his fingers flex, digging fingertips into her chest there as well. 

“You have a heartbeat too,” he tells her. He looks wrecked, and she doesn’t know why,  _ why _ this is so important but it clearly is. 

“When I want to,” she agrees. “I normally don’t bother with it much. Anthony likes listening to it.”

She watches his throat work, his adam's apple bob, but his eyes don’t leave the spot on her chest where his hand rests above the simulator. His eyes are longing but she knows his pride won’t let him lower himself to ask.

“Would you like me to leave it running permanently?” Friday asks. 

She’s not sure what good it will do him. Theirs is not a friendship with casual touches, so unless he plans on actively seeking it he is unlikely to find her heartbeat again. Perhaps it is simply the knowledge of its existence that he thinks will comfort him. Either way, it costs her little power to leave it running. 

“It could be... wise,” Loki says. He raises his head but his gaze remains locked. “As. As a diagnostic tool,” he rushes to excuse.  

“Of course,” she hums. “Come here, your breathing is still too fast,” Friday tells him quietly and tugs him close. It’s awkward, to rest his head above the simulator he has to shuffle forward and hunch to accommodate her shorter stature. But it’s worth it for the way the tensions bleeds out of him. 

“It’s not even.” 

“No, the heart I’m mimicking had a murmur.”

“Why would you choose to mimic a weak heart?” he wonders. 

“Because Boss’s heart was many things,” Friday smiles. “But it was never weak.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by [dendriteblues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendrite_blues)

Thor watches the young woman cling to the side of the jet the two Stark sons arrived in with a frown, then turns to watch where his brother followed Friday. Loki will deal with whatever needs dealt with there, he decides. He has responsibilities here. 

By the time he turns back, Peter has already moved to the woman's side and Harley has moved forward to talk to him. 

“We were not expecting a third member of your party but it is no matter,” Thor assures him, shifting Anthony on his hip. He's being squirmy. “Give me some time to have a third room prepared.”

“Its fine. Karen prefers to stay close to Peter. She’ll probably want to share his room,” Harley tells him. “How's this guy doing?”

He leans forward to wiggle a finger in Anthony's face. Like one would to play with a cat, Thor thinks testily. Anthony grabs the finger and points one in Harley's face right back. 

“No,” he declares, then adds, “Kuh kuh kuh kuh kuh kuh kuh kuh.” As he begins squirming again. 

“My son,” Thor scolds lightly. 

“No! Kuh! Nnnnnnn!”

“Anthony, you must be still,” he shushes, bouncing the boy. “My apologies. I had thought you might like an official introduction but it seems young Anthony is in no mood for it.”

“Don't worry about it,” Harley says though disappointment colors his tone. “ _ Some people _ just like to make their opinions known.”

Thor chuckles, “Anthony certainly does that, yes.”

“Hey, little man!” Peter greets enthusiastically. 

“Kuh,” Anthony sulks and sticks his head in Thor's neck. “ _ Kuh _ .”

“Is this the one we're here to guard?” the woman, Karen, asks as she approached. She has clearly gathered herself well; if she had been crying before there was no sign of it now. 

“Yes. This is Anthony Thorson, Prince of Asgard,” Thor declares proudly despite the way said prince is currently hiding. 

Thor feels Anthony peel his eyes away from his neck with a sniff. “Kuh? Ffff L _ 'ki _ spah F'thr ah thrrd,” he says in a wet, warbly voice. 

“Is that so?” Karen asks him, leaning forward. It's the transition from amused to curious that causes Thor to realize she is an android. She cannot be one of Stark's children though. Friday is indistinguishable from other humans except in the ways she chooses to be. Her facial expressions transition from one to the other flawlessly.  

This android, Karen, her expressions transition jaggedly. Flashing mechanically from one to another. 

Thor finds it disconcerting yet it appears Anthony holds no such reservations. He decides to remain quiet and let his son make a new friend. He will rely on the judgement of the Starksons’ to protect the boy that was once their father. 

“Kuh ffff nnds. Nnn? Irrr mm.”

He buries his face again and Karen coos. 

“It is most unlike him to be shy,” Thor offers. He brings up a hand to rest it on the back of Anthony's head.

Karen's face jumps to sad. She straightens from where she is bent over. “Children know I'm not one of you.”

“I am sure that is not the cause. He had no issue with you moments ago. But come, I will show you to your rooms. The young Harley has expressed you would prefer to share with Peter but a third room can be arranged for you if that is not the case.”

“It’s fine. It would be a waste of a bed, I don't sleep.”

“Our Lady Friday is much the same,” he says casually. Or, what he thought was casually, the looks young Peter and Harley give him say otherwise. 

“Is she?” Karen asks hopefully.  

The expression on her face is odd. Thor cannot read it, but the behavior tickles at the back of his brain. A much,  _ much _ younger Loki lighting up when told he was anything like Thor.  _ Really? Am I? _

Is this the longing for a sibling approval simply because they are both androids or something more?

“I did not catch your name. Are you called more than simply Karen?” he asks. 

“I am Karen Stark.”

Thor cannot help the tiny hesitation that pauses his step. “Stark? You are a Starkdottir? But...”

“Bur!” Anthony suddenly contributes, displaying his strand of amber proudly before shoving it in his mouth. “Kff!”

She lets off a sad chuckle, “The follies of youth, I’m afraid.”

.oO*Oo.

Eventually, Loki pulls himself away from Friday. He can't help but tug at his clothes uncomfortably and try to smooth his hair. Another of his jagged edges exposed. 

“I did not follow you with the intention of all this originally,” he says, feeling too raw for the conversation but knowing that they need to have it regardless. 

“I assumed as much,” Friday replies and moves to one of the tables. 

She begins organising components, putting some into a case to be installed around the village. He doesn't know whether she does this because she actually needs to right now to or to allow him the distance and space she thinks he needs. Perhaps it is both. 

DUM-E has no such reservations. 

As soon as Friday distances herself, he comes zooming in beeping and whirring and plopping a blanket over Loki's face. Loki feels a gentle  _ pat pat _ through the blanket and shoves the blanket backwards to sit on his shoulders only to find the bot’s camera directly in front of his face.

DUM-E gives a querying whir. He closes his claw and slowly, carefully inches towards Loki's face. Loki holds still, curious to see what he's up to. The closed claw gently taps his nose at the same time a loud  _ Beep! _ is emitted. 

Then the bot is off across the workshop. Rushing to his siblings with beeps and whirs and twirls, presumably bragging about what he's just done. Three sets of cameras turn to face him with sudden silence before erupting in noise and motion once more. 

Watching them with a soft smile, Loki suddenly realizes the raw, exposed feeling from before has lessened. 

He feels more relaxed and ready for the conversation he'd originally come here for. 

When he looks to Friday, she smiles, ready for him to begin. 

.oO*Oo.

Karen is sitting at the desk, going over the pages Thor handed her with details of the upcoming tour, when she receives it. 

A single ping. No message, no emotion packet, absolutely  _ nothing  _ to give her an idea what it might mean.  

Except. 

Except she tries to ping Friday back and a port that has been blocked for years has been opened. When she pings Friday, she gets a Code 0. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many thoughts and feelings about Loki getting booped on the nose by DUM-E with a little _Beep!_
> 
>  
> 
>  **Short Explanation:** Code 0 indicates a successful ping. 
> 
> **Long Explanation:** Code 0 is an echo reply. The way a ping works is you send out a set of what is essentially a packet of random data and ask for it back. The server you're trying to connect to, sends you back what you send it (it _replies_ with an _echo_ *wink wink* ) to indicate a successful connection. Echoing back the same data, it also allows you to check that the data you got back is the same data you sent, thus confirming that nothing got corrupted along the way and you not only have a connection but you also have a _good_ connection. 
> 
> **Super Long and Boring and Technical Explanation Absolutely No One Asked For But You're Getting Anyway:**   
> _Technically_ , you don't ping a port that's just the accepted terminology used by a lot people these days and what I'm using for the story because it's fiction and I can simply things (yaay!). 
> 
> What Karen is actually attempting is (a vaguely in-universe version of) a TCP 3-way handshake which she starts off by sending a SYN (synchronize) request. 
> 
> When Friday has her blocked, she essentially gets an _Error Code 10054 - The connection was forcibly closed by the remote host_. Which means _"The port is exists and is open. Other people can probably connect... but not you"_ and, not always but in this case, _"Fuck you."_ Now that Friday has unblocked her and is allowing her to connect, rather than a "Code 0" what she is actually getting is a SYN-ACK (synchronize-acknowledgement) packet which essentially says _"Yup. I'm acknowledging you are attempting to connect and you may do so."_
> 
> In the real world, on a normal computer, Karen would then respond with an ACK (acknowledgement) packet and establish the connection.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumbler here: http://janecshannon.tumblr.com/
> 
> Come say hi or leave a comment. I'm not the best about responding to them but they feed the fairies that make the writing happen ;)


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